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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25381075">Rats.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildergirl/pseuds/Wildergirl'>Wildergirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Riverdale (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bisexual Archie Andrews, F/M, FP Jones is a mad scientist, Friendship, Kidnapping, Protective Siblings, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, bughead friends to lovers, jarchie friendship, lab rats au, poor jughead???</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:13:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>57,263</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25381075</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildergirl/pseuds/Wildergirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Not to be invasive, but why are you locked in my step father’s basement?” </p><p>He gave her a lazy smile, voice slurring,  "that’s also none of your business.”</p><p>“Are you high?” </p><p>The boy chuckled, bright green eyes full of nothing, lips twisted into a dreamy smile. Betty couldn't help notice the shadows under his eyes. His cheeks were gaunt, raven curls stuck to a perspired forehead. He pressed his face against the glass, cocking his head. Despite his teasing smile, there was a crease between his brows, a noticeable curl in his lips. He was in pain.</p><p> “Are you low?” </p><p>-</p><p>or: When Betty Cooper's mother marries an inventor, she's expecting the fancy futuristic house and snazzy living space. It's almost guaranteed, right?  What she's not expecting, however, is the dark secret in his basement.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Archie Andrews &amp; Betty Cooper, Archie Andrews &amp; Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz, Jughead Jones &amp; Veronica Lodge, in later chapters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>94</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Pokemon X</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>inspired by the TV show lab rats, with my own spin. Enjoy! :) </p><p>I loved the show, and really wanted to make it a lot darker. This will be nothing like the show, apart from the concept of kids as science experiments.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <strong>Prologue. </strong>
</p><p>The Nintendo DS wasn't Jughead's. </p><p>Truth be told, he wasn't sure whose it was. It was bright pink, bedazzled with different stickers, glittering unicorns and stars that had since faded. The casing was chipped slightly. The on/off switch got stuck sometimes and he had to press extra hard on the Y button to get it to work.</p><p>It did have Pokemon though, so the console's condition didn't really bother Jughead. He'd swiped it from the lost and found office, though never had intention to take it home. After all, the DS wouldn't last two seconds in St Mary's. One of the younger kids would have it in their grasp the second he walked through the door, or more likely, an older kid declaring it theirs once they glimpsed it in his backpack. </p><p>So, instead of risking having the DS taken from him completely, Jughead made sure to put it back after every lunch time, slipping it back inside its matching case. The office was usually empty, so it was easy to sneak in and out. Being a freshman made him pretty much invisible. Which was a plus.</p><p>He often wondered if one day the owner might come back for it, but it had been weeks. Jughead liked to sit under the bleachers in the shade, losing himself in the world of Pokemon. He was curled into himself, chin balanced on his knees, eyes laser focused on the bright screen, ready to fight a higher level Pokemon, when a voice sounded, a prepubescent squeak startling him.</p><p>"Hey, what are you up to?"</p><p>Glancing up, Jughead blinked rapidly. He'd been staring at the screen for far too long, reality bleeding back into focus. Ahead of him was the football field, dotted with kids, either lounging around in groups, soaking up the sun, or members of the football team running suicides. The sun sat in a crystal blue sky like an unspoiled egg. </p><p>"Uh, hello? Dude, what are you doing?" </p><p>The voice belonged to Archie Andrews. Also a freshman. But unlike Jughead, the boy was popular, already a favourite to join varsity in Sophomore year. Tearing his gaze from the screen, Jughead fixed the boy with a frown. It was definitely odd that Archie Andrews was talking to him, considering Archie ruled the high school hierarchy despite the fact his voice was yet to break, while Jughead was a ghost, slipping in and out of the shadows unnoticed.</p><p>The boy sported a Letterman jacket that looked at least three sizes too big for him, hanging off his thin frame at an awkward angle. Archie was tiny compared to the towering seniors, yet to have a growth spurt. But the colours suited him; vivid blue and gold complimenting pale skin and his usual mop of red curls sticking from a baseball cap.  Jughead tried not to look down at his own clothes, though it was hard not to. </p><p>St. Mary's obviously couldn't afford to buy him the latest designer labels, so he was stuck wearing thrift store jeans and shirts. Usually, he didn't mind, but with Archie standing so close to him, he couldn't help but wrap his arms around the discoloured Levi's jacket twined around his waist. It was the most expensive thing he owned.</p><p>Last Christmas he'd been given twenty dollars to get himself something, and the jacket had been something Jughead had been eyeing up for a while, in the window of a thrift store on Main Street. He'd worn it every day ever since, over his usual flannel shirt and scuffed jeans. The beanie he usually had over his head of messy raven hair was more of a shield, allowing him to walk the halls of Riverdale High, reduced to a shadow in the corner of a kid's eye.  Archie's jeans looked brand new. His shirt was surely from some expensive store in the mall, and the converse were most definitely a gift from his parents. </p><p>For a moment, Jughead couldn't speak, before he managed to steel himself. Thankfully, his voice had broken. That was one thing he was grateful for at least. "Nothing," he replied nonchalantly, slamming the DS shut with far too much force. He gestured to the Letterman, his lip curling.  "Aren't Letterman jackets only for kids on the football team?"</p><p>Not exactly first impression material, but it was the first thing that came to mind, and the Letterman jacket admittedly looked good on the boy. If not a little ridiculous, considering Archie was barely out of middle school. The colours stood out though. Deluged in a halo of sun-kissed blue and gold, the Andrews boy looked like an otherworldly being. </p><p>As usual, Archie was smiling. He was always smiling, brown eyes teeming with the kind of optimism that Jughead could only dream of having. He'd recently had his braces off, offering Jughead a blinding grin. "One of the seniors gave it me!" he said excitedly, his voice squeaking again.</p><p>The boy did a little spin, stretching out his arms, the jacket slipping off his shoulders. The excitement was practically radiating off of him, and Jughead swallowed a groan. Was Archie striking up a conversation with him just to show off the jacket? Jughead had known Archie since kindergarten, though they had only been in the same classes, maybe exchanging offhanded greetings through the years.</p><p>It was no secret that Jughead was an orphan. Kids weren't stupid, and Archie Andrews might have been clumsy, constantly falling over himself and bumping into lockers, but Jughead was fairly sure the redhead knew of his lack of parents. He didn't have a last name, either. The orphanage didn't bother with one, so he was just Forsythe or Jughead. Archie had barely even made eye contact through the years. Which made it even more mortifying now the redhead was suddenly deciding to talk to him out of the blue. </p><p>Jughead arched his back, the DS slipping into his lap. The grass was warm beneath him, tiny wands tickling the backs of his legs. He studied Archie, waiting for the boy to turn and run off back to his friends. He was surprised when instead, Archie stepped closer, ducking his head under the bleachers. His grin grew wider, eyes sparkling. </p><p>"Neat, right?" The boy pulled the jacket tighter around himself. Jughead figured he'd eventually grow into it.</p><p>"Sure." He said flatly. "Neat."</p><p>Archie nodded, oblivious of the raven's icy stance. He leaned closer, straying strands of red fraying in wide brown eyes. "What are you playing?"</p><p>"Pokemon."</p><p>"Oh! Which one? Is it X or Y?" Archie was practically bouncing on the heels of his converse and it was getting progressively more irritating. Jughead frowned. "It's just Pokemon, Archie," he rolled his eyes at the boy. "do you need to go to the bathroom?"</p><p>He chuckled. "No, I'm just excited. It's my birthday today."</p><p>Jughead offered the redhead a mocking smile. "Happy birthday," he said, "did you want to talk to me, or..." he trailed off and gestured to his DS. "I'm pretty busy trying to win a gym battle, so I mean, happy birthday dude, I'm truly happy you got to live another year. Congratulations." the words came out before he could stop them, and Jughead automatically felt bad. Especially when Archie's smile shrunk significantly. </p><p>"I mean," Jughead shook his head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be mean. I'd just prefer to spend the rest of my lunch trying to level up." He forced a smile, waving the pink brick. "the battery's dying too." not true. He made sure to charge it every time he put it back, hiding the console and charger behind a mass of old senior folders in the office. </p><p>When Archie only frowned at him blankly, Jughead bit back a hiss of frustration. "Dude, I'm trying to play a game, okay? I already said happy birthday-"</p><p>"Are you busy tonight, Jughead?" the redhead cut him off, and Jughead nearly choked on saliva. The fact that the boy knew his name shouldn't have been surprising. Though it was more that Archie knew his nickname. Teachers called him Forsythe, as well as the house mother at the orphanage. Potential foster parents insisted on Forsythe. Archie was the first person to call him Jughead. Which made him curious how exactly the boy had come to learn it.  His cheeks reddened, and it took everything in him not to start stuttering. </p><p>"What?"</p><p>Archie shrugged. "I'm having a birthday party, and I was wondering if you could come."</p><p>Studying the boy's expression for traces of tease, Jughead only found sincerity. That, however, didn't knock his barriers down. There was only one reason why a popular freshman kid like Archie would invite Jughead to his party. "I'm good." he managed to get out. </p><p>"Jughead-"</p><p>"I said I'm good." he gritted out.</p><p>"Why?" Archie's voice deepened for a moment, before cracking. "My dad said-"</p><p>"Your dad said what?" Jughead snorted, unable to help himself. He clenched his fists in his lap.  "Invite the orphan kid to your party so you can feel better about yourself?"</p><p>The redhead's expression darkened. It was the first time Jughead had seen the Andrews boy look serious. His brown eyes turned steely, lip curling. The boy looked hurt, and Jughead tried to ignore the pang in his chest. "No, I invited you  because I wanted to invite you." Archie said. "I don't care if you're an orphan. If I'm honest I always see you playing video games, and you're like, the only kid who actually seems cool and doesn't want to talk about girls all the time. Plus, you don't think Pokemon is dorky."</p><p>"I don't play video games." Jughead said, albeit stubbornly.</p><p>"You're holding a Nintendo DS."</p><p>Before Jughead could open his mouth, Archie continued, folding his arms across his chest and pulling the Letterman tighter around him. "I was going to say my dad said he'll pick us up from school and can drop you home later tonight." pulling a face, the boy turned to go with a dismissive wave, scoffing. "It's fine though," shooting Jughead a bright smile which was definitely not as peppy as usual, more of an ironic grin. Jughead didn't even know the boy was capable of being angry or pissed.  "I'll leave you alone and go and find  another helpless orphan and invite them to my party to make myself feel better."</p><p>The boy's words stung. It was word for word. Jughead usually brushed off insults from the other kids at St. Mary's. Their taunts, however, were mosquito bites compared to Archie's blow. It felt like a physical pain thrumming in his chest, twisting his gut. Before the boy could disappear, Jughead straightened up with a sigh. He was going to regret this. Friends, or even the idea of them, didn't matter to him. Jughead kept to himself the majority of the time, and when anyone bothered to make conversation, he pushed them away. </p><p>In this case, however, Archie was different. </p><p>"Wait." he said, and when the redhead ignored him, Jughead hissed out a breath. "Archie, wait."</p><p>"Hmm?" Archie turned, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes were hard, but a glimmer of kindness remained. "Sorry, did you say something?"</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Jughead couldn't resist his own smile. "I get it," he groaned. "I was an ass."</p><p>"Yes." Archie turned fully and marched back over. "You were a total ass, dude," he chuckled. "I was only inviting you to my birthday party, and you bit my head off, accusing me of treating you like some kind of charity case."</p><p>Shrugging, Jughead tried not to smile. Archie's energy was contagious. Though he felt strangely comfortable talking to the kid. "Yeah, sorry about that." He tucked the DS into his jeans pocket. "I'm not used to getting invited to parties."</p><p>"Clearly." Arching a brow, the redhead cleared his throat. "Well?"</p><p>"Well, what?"</p><p>"Do you want to come?" Archie pulled off the Letterman, bundled it up and threw it at Jughead, who caught it with a soft gasp. "There's going to be cake."</p><p>The jacket was warm in his arms, a bundle of blue and gold. The inside was lined with fake fur. Jughead shook his head. "Archie, I can't take your jacket." </p><p>"Sure you can," the boy grinned. "The Letterman's yours if you come, it'll suit you more anyway." He pulled a face. "Reggie Mantle only gave it me because he lost a dare." </p><p>Jughead must have looked horrified, because Archie rolled his eyes with a light laugh. "It's just to chill at my house, dude. I've got Crash on PS2 and we're getting takeout burgers from Pops." That time Jughead couldn't hide his smile. Burgers sounded good. Cake too. He hadn't had either in ages, since St. Mary's had an obsession with eating healthy.</p><p>"You've still got a PS2?"</p><p>Archie huffed. "Dude, it's nostalgia."</p><p>"It's a kids game." Jughead found himself laughing, and it felt right. His barriers came crumbling down one by one.  It felt...good. He hadn't laughed in a while, unless it was to himself. With Archie, it felt natural.</p><p>"It's not a kids game!" the redhead shot back. "Bro, yes or no?"</p><p>Jughead huffed. "Sure." he said, "is it just us? or have you invited half of the freshman class?"</p><p>A blush spread across Archie's cheeks, and Jughead pretended not to notice. "Ah. There is one more person," his voice broke into that irritating squeak once more, and Jughead half wondered if hitting the boy in the throat would quicken the process. Maybe he was destined to always sound like a cat being choked. "though she kind of invited herself?"</p><p>"Oh?" the Letterman was suddenly heavy in his arms. Jughead felt dread coil in his gut, the overwhelming urge to turn away from the boy and not look back, hit him like a brick to the face. That was the best thing to do, right? Hanging out with Archie for one night sounded good. Maybe even fun. Even if the boy was practically a jock in the making. But a girl? Knowing Archie, it was probably a cheerleader. "and who is this mystery person?"</p><p>Archie looked nervous. He shifted his baseball cap, raking a hand through thick strands of red hair. "just a girl in some of my classes. Her mom is friends with my dad, so I kind of have to invite her." he smiled reassuringly. "She's nice, I promise! We can hang out as a three? Ronnie likes video games too. Well, Just Dance. But we can take turns."</p><p>The boy was almost stupidly naive.  "Ronnie?" Jughead repeated. "as in Veronica Gomez, the cheerleader with a major crush on you?" he waggled his eyebrows and Archie turned crimson. Veronica Gomez, like Archie, was a Freshman who had managed to strike lucky and become popular.</p><p>She was the first ever freshman Vixen cheer captain and already had boys (and girls) flocking around her. Except Ronnie ignored them. She only had eyes for Archie Andrews, the clumsy redhead whose voice still sounded like a mouse on helium. Veronica wasn't a bitch. She was worse. Her fake kindness and nice-girl facade wasn't fooling Jughead. He knew underneath the maple sweet smiles was trouble in a cheer skirt. Sure, she was captain of the LGBTQ society after coming out as bi, and ran several school charities for disadvantaged kids, but Jughead wasn't taking any chances. </p><p>Nice cheerleaders didn't exist. And if they did, they were rare. </p><p>In other words, Veronica Gomez was possibly the worst person Archie could have invited. </p><p>Ever.</p><p>"Jughead," Archie's expression creased with worry. "is that okay?"</p><p>No. the word was on his tongue, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't speak. "Sure." he said weakly, "the more the merrier, right?"</p><p>The redhead broke out into a grin, and Jughead struggled to make eye contact. "Awesome! I'll meet you outside the gates, okay? Dad will be picking us up."</p><p>Nodding, Jughead's jaw was aching from smiling so much. "Alright, I'll be there."</p><p>"Sweet." Archie backed away, brown eyes warm, lips stretched into a smile. He nodded at the jacket still hanging in Jughead's arms. "Wear it, bro. It'll suit you."</p><p>Jughead had been too choked up to reply.</p><p>I'll be there. His own words thrummed in the back of his head, all the way through 4th and fifth period. The lie was painful, but it was better than subjecting himself to a night with Veronica Gomez. Jughead sat through English Lit and AP Chemistry, zoning out to the sound of his classmates chatter, reduced to white noise in his ears. He'd read ahead in his studies, so listening to the teacher's robotic droning wasn't top priority.</p><p>Luckily, Archie wasn't in his afternoon classes, so he could avoid the boy at all costs, and despite Archie's kindness, never see him again. Jughead had a plan - sort of. As soon as the bell rang he'd get out of school as fast as humanly possible. As far as he knew, Archie didn't know where St. Mary's was.</p><p>As for afterwards, ghosting the boy wouldn't exactly be hard. He was Riverdale High's very own phantom after all. Though despite the brilliant plan taking shape, Jughead couldn't help the twinges of guilt begin to creep up his spine. The boy was expecting him to be standing at the gates at 3:30 and instead, Jughead would be locked in his room in St. Mary's, curled up under his duvet. </p><p>After a tedious hour of sitting with nausea twisting his stomach into a frenzy, the bell finally rang, and Jughead was jumping up, his backpack already slung over his shoulder. He'd planned ahead; packing his workbooks five minutes before the bell rang. Just to be sure, he'd dumped Archie's Letterman jacket on the hallway before class. Hopefully, some idiot would pick it up and claim it. Bulldog jackets were special after all. </p><p>It was cruel, he kept thinking. But necessary. Veronica was bad news, and the idea of spending a whole night with the two of them sent bile crawling up his throat. </p><p>Archie would forgive him eventually, right? </p><p>He didn't care either way. At least, that's what he told himself.</p><p>Joining the stream of kids heading out of the school, Jughead kept his head down, slipping his beanie over his eyes. The mass of kids standing in groups made his head hurt. He spotted Vixens in signature cheer skirts, ribbons tied into ponytails. Veronica, thankfully, was nowhere to be seen. Jughead had no doubt Archie hadn't told her about his impromptu invitation. He was halfway to the gate, when something stopped him in his stride. Kids pushed past him, nearly sending him to his knees. The Nintendo DS. </p><p>Jughead could feel it practically burning through his jeans pocket. The mess with Archie had distracted him from his usual routine of taking the damn thing back. If he ran back to the lost and found office, there was a huge chance of bumping into Archie. The lost and found was right next to the boys changing rooms, and Jughead had an inkling the boy would be hanging with the Bulldogs. After hesitating, he continued on, quickening his steps. The DS would have to go home with him for one night. Just one night, he promised himself. If he brought it back tomorrow, it wouldn't be classed as stealing, right?</p><p>Jughead stood, lost in his thoughts, his mind a confusing spiral, watching the myriad of kids jump onto awaiting school buses. His gaze was on what looked like a Sophomore boy who looked like he was going to throw up, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. </p><p>Flinching, he twisted around, expecting Archie. </p><p>"Hey! Forsythe, right?" </p><p>Or not.</p><p>Jughead looked up, his cheeks already smouldering, to see a raven haired girl smiling brightly at him. The girl was pretty. Of course she was, it was Veronica Gomez. Though she wasn't exactly his type. Jughead had always seen her at a distance, laughing with her flock of Vixens or grabbing things from her locker.</p><p>Except now she was inches away, he noticed little things. Her hair was silk obsidian framing a heart shaped face, warm chestnut skin perfectly defining her features. She wore her cheer uniform, vivid blue and gold blurred together, the skirt fluttering in the slight breeze, ribbons dangling from her hair.</p><p>He expected her expression to be creased with irritation, since he was apparently crashing on her and Archie's night, but Veronica seemed almost as happy to see him as Archie. Jughead swore, just like the Bulldog, she was bouncing on the toes of her sneakers unable to keep still. Suddenly aware of his own looks; eyes shadowed with sleep circles, pale skin, greasy curls slipping from his thrift store beanie.</p><p>It became increasingly harder to breathe. </p><p>"It's Jughead." he managed to reply, swallowing hard. </p><p>Veronica nodded. "Right. Sorry," she giggled. "I'm so bad with names, so you're going to have to remind me at least a thousand times." Her eyes were surprisingly kind, and he had a hard time making eye contact with her. "So, you're still coming to Archie's right?" she nodded, as if answering for him. "Arch told me to come and get you, in case you tried to run off." she winked, and Jughead resisted a groan. Of course. Archie wasn't stupid. </p><p>"This is great and all, but I really should get home. I have to study for a test." the words were flitting from his lips before he could stop them, but Veronica was rolling her eyes and laughing. "Jughead, trust me. We don't bite! We're going to have fun!"</p><p>"No, really-" he spluttered, trying to find his voice.</p><p>Except the girl was already wrapping her hand around his bicep, dragging him in the opposite direction. "Archie says it'll be better to wait for Mr Andrews where there's less kids," she sang. Her energy was dizzying. Jughead tried at first, spluttering out excuses. But the girl brushed them off, insisting on him joining them. According to her, Jughead was vital to the party. Besides, it was Archie's birthday and if he wanted Jughead to be there, then Veronica was going to make his wish come true.</p><p>The two of them ended up on the other side of campus, straying kids and staff still dotted around. The sun was far too hot, burning through his shirt. Jughead could barely keep up with the girl. Despite being small, she had a wicked hold, keeping a vice grip of his arm. He ended up awkwardly stumbling after her as she marched towards the parking lot. Her movement was captivating. Golden skin shining underneath the late afternoon sun, cheer skirt swishing side to side with every thump of her plimsolls on the asphalt. </p><p>"Do you like double chocolate chip frosting?" the girl turned to him, flashing Jughead a grin. He noticed glitter speckling her cheeks, tiny gold hearts drawn under her eyes.</p><p>"Uh, sure?" the reply came fast before he could stop it, and Veronica squealed. She let go of his arm and clapped excitedly. "Oh, Jughead, you're going to love the cake! Mr Andrews and I picked it out!"</p><p>The urge to run was no longer a shadow at the back of his head. Jughead found himself walking freely beside Veronica. His mouth was watering at the thought of proper cake. He'd only had the cheap version, or cupcakes if the little's at St Mary's baked.</p><p>Archie was waiting for them, sitting on a wall, legs dangling. The redhead was holding the Letterman, and Jughead felt the guilt come over him once more in waves.</p><p>"Hey!" the boy jumped off the wall when he spotted the two of them, eagerly making his way over. Veronica wrapped her arms around Archie, chuckling. "I caught him," she giggled, gesturing to Jughead. "You were right, he was trying to make a run for it."</p><p>Jughead struggled to find words, but Archie didn't look mad. He offered a warm smile, handing over the jacket. "I believe this is yours? I found it on the hallway."</p><p>The word "yours" was a funny one. At least for Jughead. He'd never really owned anything. Everything had to be shared at St. Mary's; everything in the entertainment room including the beaten up Xbox and scrappy collection of Harry Potter books. Even when Jughead had bought a comic book, some kid had took it, insisting that everything was shared. Even the DS still burning a hole in his pocket wasn't really his property, despite how far he'd gotten in the game. Jughead wasn't used to things well and truly being owned by him. </p><p>With shaking hands, he took the Letterman. Which was his, he thought, slipping his fingers through the warm material. Finally something that was his. </p><p>He didn't put it on, instead keeping it in his arms. "Thank you, Archie." his first words that were meaningful to the redhead. Except his apology earlier of course. </p><p>"It's no sweat, man," Archie chuckled. "like I said, you suit it more than me."</p><p>Veronica nodded, joining in. "Definitely," she nudged the boy teasingly. "now I can stop pretending to compliment you."</p><p>"Hey!" he shot back. "It's my birthday, and you said you were going to be nice all day."</p><p>"It's too hard!" the girl mocked a groan. "Come on, Archie! You say or do something dumb like every five minutes!"</p><p>"I can uninvite you, y'know!"</p><p>While Veronica and Archie engaged in playful back and forth, Jughead glimpsed a car pulling into the lot. At first Jughead thinks he's imagining things, but no. The car was a shiny red Tesla, which looked straight out of the newest catalogue.</p><p>Jughead couldn't take his eyes off of it, marvelling at the exterior. </p><p>Definitely the car of his dreams.</p><p>"Uh, Archie." Veronica grabbed the boy's arm. "Is that your dad? And since WHEN did he own a ride like that?"</p><p>The boy shook his head. "That's not my dad's car."</p><p>The Tesla however, stopped right next to them, front windows sliding down with a satisfying bzzzz. A man popped his head out. He looked to be in his late thirties with longish dark hair and scraggly looking beard. "Hey kids!" he smiled brightly at them, his gaze flicking to a confused looking Archie.</p><p>"Happy birthday, Archie! Jesus, you've grown since I last saw you, aint cha? How old are you now, son? Sixteen?"</p><p>"Fourteen." the boy corrected. </p><p>"Damn, it's not been long at all, then!"</p><p>When the redhead only smiled politely, raking a hand through his hair, the man chuckled, leaning on the window. "Oh. Sorry, I should have been more forward.  I'm an old friend of Freddie's, but he's a little tied up at the moment and asked me to come and getcha."</p><p>"Oh!" Archie nodded eagerly. "Oh, right! You must be the one my dad's always talking about!"</p><p>"In the flesh!" the guy grinned. "Now, you kids get in the back. I aint got time for dillydallying." he gestured to Jughead and Veronica. "These your friends?"</p><p>The redhead was already moving towards the back, watching in amazement, as the doors slid open on their own. "Yeah!" Archie was way too excited about the Tesla to start questioning a stranger claiming to be  a friend of his father's. He jumped into the backseat. "Uh, meet Veronica and Jughead. They're coming around to hang out."</p><p>"Nice to meet you kids!"</p><p>Veronica was quick to follow Archie, squealing in delight when her hands brushed against expensive leather. The girl dived into excited chatter with Archie but Jughead hesitated. </p><p>The man noticed him teetering on the edge of the sidewalk. He cocked his head, lips curling. "Are you getting in, Jughead?" there was something about the man's expression that was strange, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Shaking the thought away, Jughead nodded silently and jumped in, shifting himself across the seats, sitting himself comfortably next to Archie. He was barely congenial before something cool zipped across his chest. When Jughead tried to move properly, he found he couldn't. It practically strapped him to the seat.  Veronica squeaked, and the guy laughed.</p><p>"It's just your belts. They're on automatic."</p><p>Archie didn't look convinced. He squirmed in his seat, but the belts were tight, firmly restricting the three teens.  And it was then when the coil of dread returned to Jughead's stomach, slinking its way up his spine, icy fingers tip toeing down his arms and legs. "Uh, if you don't mind me asking, when did you last see me?"</p><p>The man chuckled and the car lurched forwards. "I haven't seen you or your father in years, Archie. But I gotta admit, it's good to see you again. I can understand why Fred hid you from me for fourteen years. The bastard took you away before I could even start to make you into something wonderful. You really are perfect. I'm so glad I found you again."</p><p>Twisting in his seat, he winked at the three of them. "Your friends are just a bonus."</p><p>Fuck. Jughead's mouth went dry. The world seemed to stop for a moment, while he attempted to comprehend what the man was saying. </p><p>"Wait, what?" Veronica whispered, and Jughead's gaze flicked to the windows. They were tinted black. He had no doubt they were locked.  "Archie, who the hell is this guy?"</p><p>"I'm his father, of course! His real father." the man hummed. "Or should I say...creator."</p><p>The man's words reverberated around Jughead's skull, but he couldn't register them.</p><p>Archie let out a sharp hiss. "What?" He lunged forwards, struggling violently. "Look man, I don't know who the hell you are, but you're going to let us out right now. You're a goddamn psycho!"</p><p>"Oh, really? I'd like to see you try. This car is one of a kind, young man. It can't be detected, and blocks out radio, phone and WIFI signals. It's also sound proof. Also, I wouldn't struggle if I was you. The more you fight the belts, they only get tighter, which can get uncomfortable. And we've got a long car journey ahead, kids."</p><p>Veronica seemed to be locked into a state of shock. Jughead sat stiff, staring hard at the back of the passenger seat, trying to figure out what path had brought him to this moment.</p><p>The redhead leaned back, grimacing. Jughead wanted to reassure the boy, tell him it was going to be okay. But was it? He couldn't speak, his gaze glued to the Archie who settled the man with a look of confusion and terror.  "What do you want?" his voice was a soft squeak. "You're... you're a friend of my dad's, right?"</p><p>"Oh, boy, we were more than that! He hasn't said much about me, has he? I can't complain though. Freddie was my partner. He took you away. All my hard work gone in the blink of an eye.  Now I'm taking you back, and I'm going to make you better. Far better, Archie. I've made so many promises throughout the years, and now I can fulfil them."</p><p>There was a pause before the man turned to face the three of them, green eyes glittering with unkempt lunacy. Jughead couldn't take his eyes off of him, his crazed expression and twisted lips, while the psycho's words washed over him like waves of ice water.</p><p>"I guess it won't hurt to have a play around with your friends too."</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <strong>3 Years Later. </strong>
</p><p><br/>"Sweetie, what do you think?"</p><p>Betty knew her mother's new husband, and now her stepfather, was rich, but she wasn't expecting him to live in a futuristic palace. Cocking her head, she stared, baffled at the structure in front of her. Betty was used to living in Riverdale's suburbia with a white picket fence and neighbours that greeted her on her way to school. This place was in the middle of nowhere, far, far away from Riverdale. Far from home. </p><p>But that was good, she told herself. She was away from her father, away from the accident with Polly. A new life, her mother had promised. A new life for the two of them. </p><p>"Elizabeth?" Alice Cooper's smile was bright for the first time in what felt like forever, and Betty couldn't help revelling in it. Betty liked to think she had inherited all of her mother's best qualities; bright green eyes, cat-like and mischievous, and light blonde hair she wore in a constant ponytail. Her nose however, was from her father, angular and narrow. From an angle, Betty was sure she looked like Pinocchio. </p><p>"It's...nice." was all she could say. The two heavy suitcases she'd pulled out of the car slipped from her clammy fingers and Betty took a moment to fully register what she was seeing. The house looked more like a building that was renovated into a home with its tall windows and spotlights.</p><p>Even though the sun was only setting, the spotlights were on, shining bright lights at all corners. It was like looking at a much smaller school. Betty could glimpse fancy wooden stairways through opaque exterior. The house was a series of rectangles constructed of steel and glass. It was unapologetically modern, standing out amidst the manicured lawn as if beamed there rather than constructed. The roof was flat and there was no visible chimney. She could just about glimpse the glimmer of a pool on the top porch, chlorinated water sparkling in the late afternoon glow. </p><p>"Nice? Come on, I'm sure you can think of a better word than that." A familiar voice boomed, and Betty twisted around to roll her eyes at the man still lugging suitcases from the car trunk. FP Jones  wasn't usually the type of man her mother would fall for. After all, Hal Cooper had been blonde haired and blue eyed, a so-called gentleman.</p><p>A least thats what Alice described his teen self as. FP was the opposite. Despite being rich and owning a house which looked straight out of Architects Today magazine, FP still wore old flannel and forgot to shave sometimes. He was tall and gangly with five 'O clock shadow and warm eyes. FP  was the best thing that had happened to her mother, and if Betty had to bite her tongue and pretend this man was her new father, then so be it. </p><p>"Beautiful." Betty corrected herself, smiling widely at the man. "It's really beautiful, Mr. Jones."</p><p>"Oh, please. Call me FP."</p><p>A smirk played on his lips. "It's a beaut... just like your mother, Betty." he slung his arm around Alice, pulling her into a kiss. "That right, Alice?"</p><p>Alice chuckled, pushing the man away with a laugh. "You're a tease, FP."</p><p>Betty had often wondered how exactly the two of them had met, since her mother was a real estate agent, and FP was apparently Elon Musk. Alice Cooper was everything he wasn't; pastel pinks, blue eyes and lavender perfume, a woman living a fantasy in suburbia, despite losing everything three years ago.</p><p>FP Jones smelled like old library books and motor oil. He wore the same clothes every day and barely shaved, often embracing his ever growing beard. Despite being what Betty was pretty sure was a millionaire, considering where he lived, he stayed humbled. Kind. He helped Betty with her homework the best he could, insisting on taking both her and Alice on days out to the beach or long road trips to LA. In other words, FP Jones was one of a kind. Alice Cooper was a force to be reckoned with. They couldn't have been any more different and yet they clicked. </p><p>It was love at first sight, Alice had told Betty, a huge grin spread across her lips. Though that's all the details Betty was given. The wedding was small, with just the two of them, Betty as a bridesmaid, and some of FP's family. Alice had insisted on keeping the wedding a secret from her side of the family. Her mother and FP had wed on a tiny island in the Mediterranean, cherry blossom raining down on them. Betty wore a long red dress that perfectly hugged her figure, a rose braided into her blonde curls.</p><p>It was the perfect reception and her mother had never looked happier. Even if the idea of happiness had been a foreign concept several months earlier. Betty and Alice were on the brink of being thrown out of their own house, after Hal Cooper had taken almost everything. After her sister's death, three years ago, Betty didn't think either she or her mother would ever recover. And it still hurt. Even now, she still felt hopeless, that deep cavern in her chest that had been Polly. Now though, with help, she could control it. </p><p>Betty could control her emotions, learning from a therapist every week until they could no longer afford it, that it was okay to cry. It was okay to bottle things up and just scream and scream until her throat was raw. About her father. About Polly. </p><p>FP had saved the two of them. At least that's what Betty liked to think. </p><p>As soon as they returned to Riverdale, he had offered them saving grace, insisting on letting them move in. Alice had refused at first. FP liked to call his home his place of work, and she insisted on not intruding on his work space. She wanted a real family home. Though "real family homes" were expensive. The Cooper-Jones's didn't have a choice.</p><p>And now here they were. </p><p>"Shall we go inside?" FP was playfully pulling Alice down the path before she could reply, Betty following along, lugging her suitcases. </p><p>"Elizabeth, leave your luggage. I'll get my assistant to bring them in," FP said over his shoulder. Betty hesitated before dropping them with a nod and hurried to catch up. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Meet The Rats</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Betty finds something fairly disturbing in FP's basement, and her step-father reveals his true colours.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was supposed to update this every Tuesday, but tbh i love writing this and figured i should post this now lol :D i hope you enjoy! oh and if there are mistakes, I apologise, I edited this at 2am while half asleep fkfdlkldk</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <strong>H.L: Are they ready? </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>FPJ: Not yet. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>H.L: And when exactly will they be ready? </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>FPJ: Be patient, sir. Phase 1 took nearly three years. These things take time. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>H.L: I grow impatient, Jones. If there is no demonstration by the end of the week I will be withdrawing my generous donation. As well as the money I paid for them in advance. Your excuses are getting weaker and I'm coming to the end of my very short tether. If there are no updates, I'll have no choice but to bring to light the cover-up I helped you with three years ago. Including the disappearance of Fred Andrews's little brat, the orphan who was of course "adopted" and the cheerleader who "moved to New York".</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>FPJ: There's no need for that. We're all adults here. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>FPJ: Give me more time. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>FPJ: Please understand that doing that will cause trouble we do not need. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>H.L: Give me results, and I won't have to take appropriate measures.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>FPJ: I'll be staging a presentation on Friday. They are not finished yet. Nowhere near, in fact. I still have a lot of work to do and you did not set me an initial deadline. I aim for them to be perfect, and that will take time. You are invited to the presentation of course, and I'm confident you will be impressed with their progress so far.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>H.L: Friday, Jones. I don't expect to be impressed, I want to be blown away. Considering the amount of money I invested in this project. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>FPJ: Of course, sir.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>H.L: I'd also like to offer my congratulations. Please give Alice my regards. </strong>
</p><hr/><p>"Betty, I've said this before and I'm saying it again. I am super jealous of your new stepfather, and he can adopt me anytime he wants." </p><p>Kevin Keller's voice crackled through Betty's phone's speaker which was wedged between her chin and shoulder blade as she stood, one hand on her hip, in front of FP's refrigerator. Her mother and FP had gone out for the night, and Betty was home alone in a mansion. Which sounded amazing when Alice had suggested it. </p><p>There was so much more to see. Three floors to be exact, as well as the basement and her step father's study. Betty's initial tour of the house had been very limited, much to her disappointment, with Betty only being allowed to see the first two floors. Which was fairly basic. The lounge area was fancy; the design was a simple chocolate coloured and rustic aesthetic with a flat screen TV taking up an entire wall. </p><p>It looked more like a movie theatre, with reclining chairs. The TV came with pretty much every app, TV show or music station she could think of.</p><p>Her bedroom, again, was simple. Modern. Minimalist. It had cherry red walls and a cream carpet, a walk-in wardrobe already stocked with the latest fashion, helped by her mother. </p><p>The house overall was beautiful. It was her dream bedroom, and Betty was grateful for everything she was being given, and allowed to explore. Except something was nagging at her. An incessant feeling worming its way into her gut and twisting it into sickly knots. </p><p>There had to be a reason why FP was forbidding her from seeing the other three floors. </p><p>Despite her step father telling her about his work, and what exactly he did, Betty had never seen any projects or inventions, despite his talk of them.  Everything he'd said was at face value, and she'd been looking forward to seeing behind the scenes of his projects, or even some of them before they were finished. But...no. He insisted on his work staying private. </p><p>Being a naturally curious person, Betty was already planning on sneaking around when her mother and step-father left. It was too tempting not to. The plan had initially been to venture upstairs via the elevator, explore the out of bounds rooms, and then investigate the basement, taking Kevin along with her. It was the perfect chance for her to find out exactly what FP was so protective of. Though his expression had darkened when she'd suggested the idea of it. Her step father had made it clear before leaving with her mother: Under no circumstances must she go anywhere near the above three floors, his study, or the basement. As well as the elevator. </p><p>Which just brought even more questions she was dying to answer. </p><p>It was in Betty's blood, after all. </p><p>Being a wannabe detective came naturally to Betty. Her younger self had eavesdropped on doors, at bedtime pinning her best ear to the dusty boards to hear what the grown-ups had to say. As a kid she had known everything about everyone, always the goldmine of information, getting inside scoop on all of her kindergarten classmates, and  ultimately solving the mystery of, "Who ate the last pudding cup?" It had been Cheryl Blossom. She had traces of chocolate around her mouth and hidden the empty carton under her desk.</p><p>"Betty? Are you daydreaming again?"</p><p>She was. Though it was impossible not to, imagining the vast possibilities lurking inside those oh-so tempting restricted rooms. "No." she muttered. "Okay, yes. With good reason."</p><p>The boy tutted. "Well? Do you think he'd adopt me? I'm still a minor." </p><p>"You're almost seventeen years old." she laughed. Despite desperately wanting to know the secrets FP was hiding, Betty decided to respect his wishes. After all, he'd already done so much for both her and Alice. The least she could do was respect his privacy. Betty pondered Kevin's question. "I don't think FP wants any more kids, but I'll ask for you. If that’s what you want.”</p><p>Ignoring the boy's sputters, she surveyed the drink options currently occupying  the refrigerator. Like the rest of the house it was of course high tech; glistening silver with an LED screen displaying the time and weather, connected to the Amazon Alexa.  Which was bizarre. </p><p>Back at home, all the refrigerator did was provide ice. This one had a screen with a digital view of the contents before she even opened it. Kevin hummed.</p><p>"Dude, are you still freaking out over his fancy kitchen?"</p><p>She didn't answer for a moment, reaching out, wrapping her fingers around the handle and giving it a gentle tug. The door opened, a chilling blast of cold air hitting her. </p><p>"I hope you know I'm dying here." Kevin sang down the phone. </p><p>His impatience was practically radiating through. </p><p>Rolling her eyes, Betty adjusted the phone a little so it didn't dislodge from under her chin. "I'm just figuring out what to drink." her gaze flicked over the colourful assortment of goods stacked inside, searching for anything remotely drinkable. </p><p>Kevin mocked a gasp. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's hoarding the blood of virgins. I read a Tumblr post that pretty much confirms the elite as vampires."</p><p>Betty studied a jar of pickles, a smirk pulling at her lips. Her step father refused to squash flies, insisting that they deserved to live too. The idea of him being a bloodsucking beast, like old school Nosferatu, was laughable. "I doubt that."</p><p>Peering inside, there were multiple bottles of water on the top shelf. The following racks housed fruit and vegetables and protein bars, and finally, stuffed at the bottom were bottles of soda, neatly stacked on top of each other; each one emblazoning colourful labels. </p><p>The usual options were there. Coke, Sprite, Cherry Coke and something fancy that she couldn't fully pronounce. It looked like the type of soda a celebrity would drink. The soda was a surprise though. Betty remembered FP saying he hated the stuff, preferring water or wine. Her gaze flicked across each bottle for a moment, though she shook the thought away. Being an inventor, he most likely had guests. And those guests had kids. That’s what it was. Surely.</p><p>Grabbing an unopened bottle of Coke, Betty studied the row of rich mahogany cupboards lining the walls. The kitchen lights were gentle on her eyes, a mellow glow lighting up the room. FP's voice was still at the back of her head, telling her where things were if she needed them. </p><p>He had made sure to give her all the necessities before leaving, including money for pizza, and a full tour of the kitchen. Her gaze fell on the dark grain cupboard above the sink, vaguely remembering FP eagerly highlighting it earlier before they left.</p><p>Standing on her tiptoes, Betty grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured herself a Coke, watching the soda fizzle and bubble its way to the top. </p><p>She was mesmerised. Or maybe it had something to do with the house as a whole. Her new home still wasn't completely registering in her mind.  </p><p>"Betts, are you done? I want to see the rest of this bougie ass house." </p><p>Kevin's voice startled her a little. Betty had almost forgotten the boy was on the phone. </p><p>Placing the tall glass of Coke on top of the kitchen island, she dropped onto a stool and took a moment to fully register the kitchen, lazily circling the rim of the frosted glass with her index. It looked magnificent. The serene white walls, glassy marble counters and dark coloured cabinets all greatly complimented each other. </p><p>Tall windows surrounded the circumference, allowing the last rays of sunlight dancing across a twilight sky to trickle inside. Taking a refreshing sip, Betty placed her phone on smooth granite, tapping the video call option. Automatically, Kevin appeared with his usual smile. His hair was damp from showering, curly and tousled. Her heart tugged a little. Riverdale wasn't far. Maybe a two hour car ride. Though seeing Kevin still choked her up a little. Home wasn't exactly something she wanted to go back to, especially after so many bad memories residing inside the town. FP thankfully lived in the middle of nowhere. It was quaint and relaxing. The nearest school was Seaside High, where Betty would be starting her Junior year. Though there was one thing she missed from Riverdale. </p><p>Kevin. Her best friend since elementary, and practical brother in the making. </p><p>"Finally." the boy beamed. He cocked his head, green eyes wide. He was sitting on his own bed, rocking backwards and forwards excitedly. Betty could glimpse a framed picture of the two of them in the background. It was their first day of freshman year. Kevin had worn a baseball cap and was all smiles, mid laugh at the camera. Betty's hair had been a blonde whirlwind, her fringe taking up half of her face. </p><p>Polly had been the one to style her hair that morning. Betty remembered the two of them sitting in front of her vanity, Polly humming along to some pop song. Being three years older, her sister already knew the best clubs to join and teachers to avoid. They sat for an hour laughing about nothing and everything, Polly gushing about her senior year and how excited she was for it.</p><p>It only took the slightest memory of her sister for Betty to become undone. </p><p>Her fingers tightened around the glass, the helpless feeling that had haunted her for two years returned, and occupying that was the sensation of drowning, her chest squeezing. She took another hasty sip of soda, but this time it stung her throat, leaving a pit in her stomach.</p><p>It took her several attempts to swallow it down, almost choking. </p><p>Kevin must have noticed her expression. </p><p>"Betty, are you okay?"</p><p>It had gotten progressively easier to fake a smile over the years, especially regarding Polly. Betty only allowed herself to properly unravel and mourn her sister when she was  alone, screaming into her pillows in the midnight hours.  "Yeah." she nodded with a plastic grin. </p><p>Before Kevin could question her sincerity, and she knew he wanted to, Betty grabbed her phone and jumped up, waggling her eyebrows at the camera. "Have I shown you the pool yet?"</p><p>Kevin leaned forward in anticipation. He didn't pry into her feelings, and she was eternally thankful.  "You have not. Though I appreciate the flex. Show me."</p><p>Betty slid across the kitchen tiles on bare feet. "Get ready to be seriously jealous, Kevin."</p><p>Adjacent to the kitchen, and through two motion detecting glass doors, was the first pool. FP had spoken of three. There was one on the roof, an indoor pool on floor three, apparently private to FP, and a mini one on the porch. </p><p>Betty stepped out into the cool night, revelling in the feeling of the brisk breeze, the warm July heat prickling on her bare arms. It was the perfect temperature. The view was beautiful, overlooking grassy woodland and a lake that stretched for miles which sparkled under the setting sun, filling Betty with a sense of happiness, lingering thoughts of her sister bleeding away. </p><p>The pool itself was small, built into a marble white patio. Betty found herself standing on the edge, staring into her fragmented reflection glimmering back at her in the glow of the patio lights. She looked better than usual. It had been a while since Betty had thought that, often choosing to not look at herself. Because she knew what she'd see; turbulent blue eyes and gaunt cheeks framed by greasy hair that hadn't been washed in weeks. </p><p>Sometimes Betty swore she saw Polly in her own reflection. The two of them had often been mistaken for each other when her sister was alive, and now she was gone, Betty couldn't help glimpse Polly sometimes, staring through her own hollow eyes. </p><p>Though not now. Polly was nowhere to be seen. Ever since her mother found FP, it seemed her sister had finally found peace. This time there was no pained cry and twisted lips. </p><p>Instead, Betty was smiling, blonde curls tied into her usual ponytail. The long white shirt and leggings she was wearing for pyjamas weren't exactly of the highest fashion, but they were comfy. Betty was frowning at the rippling water glowing fluorescent blue,  daring herself to dive in, imagining how good the cool water would feel folding over her, soothing her aching heart, when Kevin let out a happy sigh which sputtered into static. "You truly do live in paradise, Betty Cooper."</p><p>She couldn't resist a laugh, taking a step back, her bare soles slapping on the patio. </p><p>"Truly." Betty agreed, panning the phone so Kevin could see the view. </p><p>It was the perfect moment. Even if Kevin was’t there physically, he was still beside her, peering into the glow of the setting sun. </p><p>Her gaze was settled on the horizon; the darkening sky was filled with lavender and indigo clouds, covering up the first stars of the night. Betty was following a flock of birds, their silhouettes glowing through orange tinged clouds, when a sudden loud bang startled her. </p><p>She snapped her head up, her toes curling over the edge of the pool, her brain, which until then had been happily trudging its way through maple syrup, suddenly kicking into fruition. </p><p>Kevin whistled. </p><p>"Are you expecting guests? Wait, have you already made friends at Seaside High?" the boy let out a gasp. "Betty, have you replaced me after only being gone a few hours?"</p><p>She was about to reply, when a second loud bang sounded, this time triggering her fight or flight. It took several disorienting seconds for her to remember she had ordered pizza. </p><p>Tightening her fingers around the phone, Betty let out a breath of relief. "Relax,” she allowed herself to laugh, “I don't start school until next week. It's just the pizza guy.”</p><p>The boy tutted. "Pizza guy? How do you know it's not a pizza girl?"</p><p>"You're not funny." </p><p>The adrenaline that filled her almost sent her toppling into the pool. </p><p>Talking to Kevin made her feel a hell of a lot more comfortable, especially in an empty mansion. She left the porch quickly, making her way back into the kitchen and then through the alcove into the lounge, flinching when the lights followed her, flickering to life through each room. </p><p>Quickening her steps, Betty peered at her phone. Kevin had an odd smile on his face. </p><p>He had a thing for pizza guys. She couldn't resist a smirk, feigning a look of irritation. "Kev, if you say anything embarrassing, I'm muting you straight away."</p><p>He chuckled. "Cross my heart. Just make sure to angle me so I can hear the conversation."</p><p>Another loud bang sounded and Betty resisted a groan. The guy was impatient. She hurried down to the main floor, practically throwing herself down the sleek wooden staircase. </p><p>The main hallway was more like a foyer with a high ceiling and marble flooring, faux paintings of well known classics plastering smooth, eggshell coloured walls. There was a sparkling chandelier hanging above, the type which definitely would kill her if it happened to fall in a Final Destination type disaster. That was the kind of thing she thought about when home alone.</p><p>When Betty finally opened the door, she found herself staring at a guy who was maybe in his early twenties. He was tall with spiky black hair sticking from a Pizza Hut cap, smooth golden skin glistening under the slivers of moonlight starting to bleed through the clouds.</p><p>His jaw was chiselled to perfection, Betty couldn't stop staring at it. </p><p>In his hands was a steaming cardboard box. The aroma of spicy cheese and pepperoni was comforting and homely, making her mouth water. The guy beamed. "I've got an extra cheese and pepperoni for Elizabeth Cooper?" his tone was kind, a grin plastered on his lips. </p><p>Betty felt her cheeks redden. "Yeah, that's me."</p><p>"Sweet." the boy grinned. He tipped his head back, admiring the house. "Nice place,” he murmured. “It took me ten minutes to get through the gate."</p><p>"Oh. I...uh-"</p><p>He cut her off with a laugh, telling her not to worry about it.</p><p>“That'll be eighteen fifty, sweetheart, and a tip if you're feeling generous." he winked.</p><p>Nodding, Betty stuck her hand in her pocket for the twenty FP had left on the kitchen island. She was reaching out for the pizza, when the boy jolted suddenly, stumbling back like he'd been electrocuted. The provocative smile previously lighting up his face vanished, all the colour draining from his cheeks. It was like a shadow had fallen over him.  When Betty looked up to ask him if he was okay, prickles of ice slid down her spine when his eyes rolled into the back of his head, shiny whites reflecting a perfect crescent moon. His hands slackened around the box, and it dropped to the ground.</p><p>Betty didn't move. Her gaze was stuck to the boy who was petrified to the spot. </p><p>"I..." the boy seemed to be struggling with speech, staring straight through her before blinking rapidly. He cracked his neck, frantic eyes flicking back and forth.</p><p>Though this time she could have sworn there was something there, a flicker of cerulean light dancing around his iris. His hands twitched at his sides, and he reached up, tracing his own lips, staring baffled at his hand curled into a fist. "I, uhh..." he tried again, his voice slurring before he reached out, icy fingers tracing the air, scathing the skin of her throat. The boy's eyes darkened, igniting with desperation. "Your...your necklace," he gritted out. "take...take...take…”</p><p>Betty didn't move. Even when his hands grazed her throat before dropping limply back to his side. She knew the first signs of a stroke. Slurred speech and disorientation, the left or right side of the face beginning to droop. Though she was positive, glowing eyes weren't a symptom. </p><p>She took a firm step backwards, unable to stop her voice trembling. </p><p>"Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone?"</p><p>"Take it off." The boy's voice was monotone. His eyes were glazed over. Blank. </p><p>"What?" Her hands immediately went to her necklace, fingering the silver gemstone. </p><p>It was always a comfort. Every time she was scared, the necklace was a sort of anchor. </p><p>"I'm sorry, do you want me to call 911?"</p><p>"Necklace." Was all he said. He was swaying now, eyelashes flickering, lips twitching, like he was trying to speak. But he couldn't. He stared down at his own hands, a look of helplessness filling his eyes, pain igniting across his face, the kind of pain she could relate to. The kind of pain that hollowed her out, filling her blood with ice. </p><p>It left her breathless. </p><p>Betty stared at him, waiting for the boy to spout more gibberish, or collapse. Because surely it was a stroke. Except he didn't pass out. The spark of blue in his eyes sizzled out and he blinked again, his expression creasing. For a moment he just frowned at her, life seeping into his eyes once again.</p><p>"Wait, what?" he let out a breath, as if remembering how to breathe again, before catching her eye. The boy's eyes widened, before his gaze found the pizza on the floor. Cursing, he bent over and grabbed the box. "Oh shit. Sorry, I think I just had a brain blast." </p><p>He laughed nervously, fingertips dancing across his temples. "Damn, I need to cut out the night drinking," the boy flinched when he noticed Betty watching him. He offered her a sickly smile. "uh, don't tell my boss I said that, alright? I barely make minimum wage and hardly get tips."</p><p>She couldn't help herself, the words slipping from her lips. After acting completely out of his mind, the kid was masquerading that everything was fine. But Betty had seen it. She'd seen his eyes roll to the back of his head, his muscles twitching, body jolting like it was sizzling with electricity. She wrapped her arms around herself, inhaling and then exhaling slowly.</p><p>"You told me to take my necklace off." she was surprised how strong her words were. Though the boy only cocked his head, his lips curled into a smirk. </p><p>"I'm sorry, what? Listen dude, that's not my usual pick- up line, and you're like four years younger than me."</p><p>It was Betty's turn to laugh. Remembering the twenty still in her fist, she handed it over quickly with trembling hands. "What? No! You told me to take my necklace off."</p><p>His eyes widened, his smile bleeding into irritation.</p><p>"What are you talking about? Look, if this is some kind of joke you and your friends have concocted, I'm not in the mood, alright? I'm just a delivery guy..." he trailed off when a sliver of crimson pooled down the curve of his nostril. Betty's stomach twisted. </p><p>Blood.</p><p>The boy tenderly stroked his nose. </p><p>"Oh fuck. Brilliant. As if my fuckin' night couldn't get any worse." </p><p>He gave her one last look, before turning to leave. </p><p>"Sorry about the pizza, Blondie. If it's squashed, just ring the restaurant and tell them Reggie Mantle told you to ask for a free one, alright? Just don't tell em' about the brain blast."</p><p>Betty struggled to find words. "Wait-"</p><p>"Have a good night!" he called over his shoulder, darting into the dark. When he was gone, she stepped back into the house, letting the door slam shut. Something was...wrong. The feeling came like tumultuous waves of ice water hitting her one by one. It was like no other feeling, no sensation she'd ever felt before, a phantom urge awakening inside of her.</p><p>She placed the pizza on a fancy wooden cabinet. Her hands were still shaking.</p><p>"What...was all that about?" Kevin hissed from her pocket. "Did he give you the wrong pizza?"</p><p>Breathless, Betty pulled her phone out, glimpsing Kevin peering into the camera. She swallowed hard. "Kev, can I call you back?"</p><p>He nodded slowly. "Sure," his eyebrows creased with confusion. "Wait, what's wrong? Why are you taking your necklace off?"</p><p>Betty barely noticed her hand grazing the clasp at the back of her neck. Her chest clenched. "I'm not," she said shakily, but she was, nimble fingers tackling the silver clasp. "look, I'm going to call you back, okay? I should probably get ready for bed."</p><p>Kevin snorted. "Sure," he said. "and by that, you mean delve into unexplored territory. Didn't your step-dad specifically tell you not to go all 'Dora The Explorer?"</p><p>"I'm just going to look." was her answer. Except she didn't know why, or what it was. </p><p>The main elevator was on the first floor. Betty felt like a ghost, her feet barely skimming wooden steps as she dived up each one. The feeling was getting stronger, pulling her further, ghostly hands wrapping themselves around her arm.</p><p>Betty reached the elevator, her shaking hands landing on the electronic panel lit up in green light. The doors slid open to her surprise, revealing four walls of shimmering glass. </p><p>"Betty." Kevin said, his tone for once was serious. "Are you sure about this? What if he's hoarding something super important and you trip over and break it?"</p><p>"I'm just looking." she said again. </p><p>The words didn't feel like hers, popping from her mouth before she could stop them.</p><p>I'm just looking, she told herself. </p><p>Just looking. </p><p>Her decision was made, despite every piece of her screaming it was a bad idea. </p><p>As if anticipating what she was doing, her body recoiled. Bile creeped up her throat, shivers rocketed up and down Betty's spine. She stepped into the elevator, stabbing the bottom button. When the panel flashed, her head spun, and when the elevator began to descend, Betty had to grasp onto the metal railing to stay upright. "Kevin?"</p><p>There was no answer. When she grabbed her phone, the face-time call had ended, and her signal as well as WIFI bars had vanished.</p><p> Ignoring her somersaulting stomach, Betty steeled herself, staring hard at her own feet so she didn't throw up. </p><p>When the elevator dinged, Betty slipped her phone back into her pocket. </p><p>Her hands once again went to her neck, tugging at the clasp. But it wouldn't budge. When the doors slid open, she hesitated for a moment, before stepping out, shivering at the sudden blast of cold air sending slithers of ice creeping up and down her bare arms.</p><p>When she stepped out, her bare feet touched cold white marble. </p><p>The basement was startlingly different from upstairs. Betty's gaze found bland white walls and flooring. The smell of antiseptic hit her automatically, twisting her gut. </p><p>There was only one door. It stood in front of her, a sense of foreboding hitting Betty at the sight of it, once again sending her heart into her throat.</p><p>It was bad news, her body and mind screamed. But something pulled her closer, her bare feet scathing cool marble flooring; the door was the grey of unburnished silver, dull and spotted with years of water damage. Where there should have been some fancy matching handle was only a square shaft of dark cold metal. Betty closed her fingers around it, her breath catching in her throat. FP was going to kill her, she thought. Her mother was going to kill her. </p><p>With one hand still wrapped around the handle, her other went to the necklace, this time managing to undo the clasp. Suddenly drunk on adrenaline and a force willing her forwards, Betty pulled the door open, slipping silently through the gap. </p><p>The first thing she noticed was...light. </p><p>Blinding light. </p><p>Shading her eyes, Betty stumbled further inside. When her eyes adjusted, she found herself standing inside a large room, half of it sectioned off by a glass wall.</p><p>Something caught her eye, catching her attention for a moment. It was pooled at her feet. </p><p>Her necklace. </p><p>Betty bent down to grab it, but a voice stopped her, freezing her in place. </p><p>"I wouldn't do that if I was you."</p><p>Her head snapped up. </p><p>Blinking rapidly, Betty stared ahead of her. Her vision blurred for a moment, before she found the owner of the voice; a boy was sitting cross legged on the other side of the glass, his head tipped back. His skin was warm olive in perfect contrast to raven curls trickling into closed eyes. When she looked closer, Betty realised he was her age. Maybe a little older. The boy was slim. Unhealthy thin, clinical white shorts and t-shirt practically hanging from his thin frame. Like her, he was barefoot. Before she could speak, his eyes flew open, and he offered her a wide, gleaming smile. </p><p>Which she definitely wasn't expecting.</p><p>"Oh wow," he chuckled, "Mr Jones finally brought us a new sister."</p><p>Betty was stumbling over to the glass wall before she could stop herself, her hands grazing the cool surface. "Who..." she sputtered. "Who the hell are you?"</p><p>The raven haired boy stood up, dancing over to the wall, pressing his hands against the glass, matching her movement. He shrugged, tapping his chin. "Either Eminem or Obama. I'm not entirely sure."</p><p>Betty almost laughed. "What?"</p><p>He curled his lip. "My name is none of your business." he pouted, sticking his tongue out. </p><p>His tone was childish, definitely not matching his age. </p><p>"Not to be invasive," Betty managed to gasp out, the tips of her fingers tapping the glass. Her mind was a whirlwind, demanding answers. A boy. She thought, vomit searing her throat. There was a boy in her step-father's basement, trapped behind a wall of glass.</p><p>"But... why are you locked in my step father’s basement?”</p><p>He gave her a lazy smile, voice slurring, "that’s also none of your business. The question is," Betty jumped when he slammed his hands into the glass, giggling. His voice was mocking. "are you Mr Jones's new toy, hmm? I wouldn't mind someone new to play with."</p><p>The boy's words were chilling, but she couldn't register them.</p><p>Not yet. </p><p>Betty swallowed hard. The words on her tongue weren't right. But she couldn't stop them coming out. Pure word vomit. She followed his hands with her own. Locking eyes with him, she realised he wasn't really looking at her. His eyes were hollow, vacant of proper expression.</p><p>"Are you..."</p><p>The boy's eyes twinkled. His fingers danced across the pane, like he was playing piano. "Am I...?"<br/> <br/>Betty choked back a laugh. Denial, she thought. She was in denial, because this wasn't how a normal person should act. “Are you high?”</p><p>The boy chuckled, bright green eyes full of nothing, lips twisted into a dreamy smile, which made her wonder if he was under the influence. With him so close, Betty couldn't help notice the shadows under his eyes. His cheeks were gaunt, raven curls stuck to a perspired forehead. </p><p>He pressed his face against the glass. Despite his teasing smile, there was a crease between his brows, a noticeable curl in his lips. He was in pain, though she wondered if he could truly feel it.</p><p>“Are you low?” he chuckled, lips breaking out into a lucid grin. </p><p>
  <em>Ignore my brother. He's not himself.</em>
</p><p>Another voice sounded, a gruff murmur. But this time it grazed the back of her thoughts, a static crackling erupting into her life inside Betty's skull. At first she thought she was imagining it, but looking past the raven haired boy, she glimpsed a second kid, also her age.  He was resting on his back, dressed in the same clinical white clothes. The boy was an explosion of red in contrast to the white, lying in a halo of crimson curls. He seemed to notice her staring and sat up, offering her a smile, freckles speckled across pale cheeks. Though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He was larger built than the other boy, well rounded muscles visible through his shirt. </p><p>Unlike the raven, the redhead's expression was deadly serious.</p><p>Betty could only stare back, lips quivering. "But-" she squeaked.</p><p>"How are you..."</p><p><em>Save it.</em> the boy muttered into her head. She watched his lips which weren't moving, despite mocha brown eyes piercing her own. His voice was directly inside her head, clinging onto every thought, filling her skull with crackling static. </p><p>
  <em>Like I said, ignore my bro. He's under the program's control. Trust me, he's not normally like this.</em>
</p><p>The raven-head whipped around to glare at the redhead, before turning back to Betty. He rolled his eyes with another giggle.</p><p>"He's being bossy again," he chuckled. "The only he's being bossy is because his voice isn't squeaky in his head. Mr Jones took away his real one. Didn't he?"</p><p>The boy's tone was teasing, and he leaned towards Red, flicking him on the nose.  </p><p>Red flashed him an irritated look.</p><p>
  <em>I'm not being bossy. I'm trying to save our asses.</em>
</p><p>Warm browns flickered back to Betty. He must have caught her look of horror, the raven's words hitting her like lightning bolts.</p><p>
  <em>Don't worry about that right now. You need to shut the program down. I'd make you do it myself, but the pizza guy drained me of energy.</em>
</p><p>Betty bit her lip, a dull throb creeping across the back of her head. The memory of twitching eyes and stumbling speech hit her. "That was you?" she whispered. </p><p>The redhead nodded mutely. <em>Yep.</em> It was easy.<em> Well, not really. He was stronger than I thought. The good news is you got rid of your suppressor and now I can get into your head.</em></p><p>"What? what are you talking about?!"</p><p>Another hysterical giggle from the raven. "You're scaring her!"</p><p>Red rolled his eyes. <em>Shut up for a second. </em> </p><p>He looked back to Betty. </p><p>
  <em>You need to shut the program down. Do you see that machine over there? The one on the wall?</em>
</p><p>Shaking her head, Betty took a step back. This was too much. "I have a better question," she whimpered. "why are you here? Why is my step father doing this?"</p><p>The boy's exchanged a glance, the raven giggling. "You really don't want to know," he sang, this time throwing his whole body across the glass. Betty noticed bruises blooming down his arms, blue and yellow flourishes tainting olive skin like a canvas. His neck, too. She glimpsed marks covering him head to toe. Betty forced herself to tear her gaze away. There was no doubt in the mind that the redhead was any different.</p><p>Sick, Betty thought. She was going to be sick. </p><p>"Mr Jones is a baaaad man! Do you wanna know how bad?"</p><p>No. Betty took another shaky step back. </p><p>She wouldn't believe it. Even when the truth was staring right at her. </p><p>
  <em>Hey, concentrate! </em>
</p><p>The redhead snapped into her skull, startling her. </p><p>He marched over to the glass, folding his arms across his chest and gesturing across the room.</p><p>
  <em>The machine over there. If you can't do it, I'll make you do it. Anything to get us out of here. </em>
</p><p>She had a sickly feeling the boy wasn't joking. Betty locked eyes with him, who looked far too young to have such haunted eyes like his brother. </p><p>He looked like he used to smile, laughing lines still creasing his forehead. Though she had an inkling, judging from the sharp look in his eyes and curl in his lips, he hadn't laughed in a while.</p><p>"If I do this," she spoke softly. Carefully. "you'll tell me what my step father is doing to you."</p><p>He nodded. <em>Of course. His lip curled. Do you want to know, though?</em></p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>
  <em>Good. Help us, and we’ll tell you everything.</em>
</p><p>Betty hesitated. "Your names," she managed to get out. "What are your names?"</p><p>The boy shrugged. <em>No idea.</em> He said, though his voice choked up inside her head. </p><p>
  <em>None of us do. Mr Jones took them away a long time ago.</em>
</p><p>"Took them?" </p><p>The boy's words were like needles sticking into her back. </p><p><em>Later.</em> The boy grumbled, his voice prickling. <em>Give my brother and sister their mind's back, and then we can talk.</em></p><p>Betty's blood ran cold. "Sister?"</p><p>The raven-head appeared again. He flashed her a manic grin, eyes glittering. Betty froze in place, unable to tear her gaze from him. "Did you think it was just us two?"</p><p>She was moving away from them then, nearly stumbling over herself. </p><p>Part of her wanted to race back upstairs and never looked back. She'd grab her mother's hand and they would run far away. But the majority was desperate to know why her step-father was holding two boys and a possible other in his basement. Why he'd taken their names from them, trapping them behind a wall of glass. Why one of them could talk into her head, which definitely wasn't a hallucination. Betty shook her head, forcing herself to concentrate. </p><p>The machine was like a computer monitor, and for a moment, Betty stared at it, baffled. Her heart was hammering. "What do I do?" </p><p><em>Okay. Go slowly.</em> The redhead's voice was calm. </p><p>
  <em>It's a touch screen. All you need to do is find where the program is running from, and shut it down.</em>
</p><p>Betty's gaze was on the screen. FP had left his gmail inbox displayed, and she couldn't resist hesitantly tapping on the first email at the top which was simply labelled, <strong>"Regarding Friday."</strong></p><p>Friday, Betty thought dizzily. Today was Friday. </p><hr/><p>
  <strong>From: HL</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>To: FPJ: I trust the prototypes will be ready for screening on Friday? You spoke of them not being finished, but I think you know I want to see something worth-while, Jones. Or the deal is off. I will of course be bringing associates. Make sure refreshments and your finest wine is available.</strong>
</p><hr/><p>It almost felt like she was drowning again, back when Polly died. The same sensation of weights on her chest, phantom fingers tugging on her ankles, pulling her down, down, down. </p><p>Prototypes, Betty thought. Her head was spinning. What were the prototypes?</p><p><em>The program</em>, the redhead said impatiently, cutting into her thoughts.</p><p>
  <em>Ignore everything else, okay? Shut down the program.</em>
</p><p>She couldn't. </p><p>Everything else was like white noise. Her finger hovered over the next email which was labelled, <strong>"TEST ONE."</strong></p><p><em>Don't.</em> The redhead said sharply. </p><p><em>Trust me, you don't want to look at them," </em>He let out a soft breath.<em> If you still want to see your stepfather in a good light, leave them. I promise we’ll tell you everything we know.</em></p><p>"Everything!" the raven-head joined in with a lucid laugh.</p><p>"We'll tell you eeeeverything he did to us!"</p><p>Again. Needles. They were sticking into her, each of his words perforating her. </p><p>The email was still lodged in the back of her head. </p><p>Who was HL? What did he want from FP? Was the raven head crazy, or speaking the truth? </p><p>
  <em>Ignore my bro.</em>
</p><p>Red's voice splintered her thoughts once again. Just focus on the program.</p><p>Nodding and swallowing hard, Betty minimised the emails and ended up on the desktop. There were three tabs at the bottom of the screen. </p><p><strong>Gmail</strong>, <strong>My Files</strong> and something called <strong>"PROJ-IND."</strong></p><p><em>That's it.</em> His voice trembled. </p><p>
  <em>Shut it down. Bring them back to me. </em>
</p><p>Betty’s gaze was glued to the screen, Red's words splintering her heart. She sensed the kind of bond they had, the same one her and Polly shared.</p><p>When she tapped the bottom tab, the window popped up; a single black box with one word scrolled across the top: "Running."</p><p>
  <em>Scroll down to the bottom. There should be two buttons that say <strong>END</strong> and <strong>RUN</strong>. Click <strong>END.</strong></em>
</p><p>Following the boy's instructions, Betty scrolled to the bottom, and after staring hard at both buttons, stabbing the END option. She let out a breath when the box disappeared.</p><p>At first, nothing happened. She took a hesitant step backwards before stumbling over to the glass wall. The redhead looked relieved, raking a hand through his curls.</p><p><em>Thank you.</em> He said softly, his voice a gentle murmur in her head.</p><p>
  <em>I, uh, I wouldn’t have actually tried to possess you, y’know. I’m not a total ass. </em>
</p><p>Ignore him, she thought, pushing the boy’s impossible words down. </p><p>Possession was not real. </p><p>Except she’d seen it, a buzz of electric blue light sparking inside Reggie Mantle- the pizza guy’s- eyes.</p><p>Betty nodded, her stomach twisting.</p><p>"I don't understand," she whispered. "what did I do?"</p><p>The redhead’s lips curled into what might have been an actual smile. <em>Wait for it.</em></p><p>She opened her mouth to speak, when the raven-head seemed to come to life suddenly, blinking rapidly. Slowly, he got to his feet, looking disoriented, pulling at his clothes. "What..." he croaked, his gaze going to the redhead. "How...how long?"</p><p><em>Three days</em>. Red murmured. <em>Mr Jones wasn't happy with you.</em></p><p>Pulling at strands of his hair, almost sleepily, the boy's frantic eyes darted around the room, before ultimately landing on Betty. His lip curled.</p><p>In the fraction of a second it took for her to turn to him properly, he was moving at an impossible speed, a blur she couldn't distinguish, throwing himself against the glass, his expression wild. The dopey smile and vacant eyes made way for a look of unadulterated terror. "Get us out of here." his eyes found hers, and Betty felt the bottom drop out of her. No longer green, the raven's eyes were flickering balls of cerulean light. The same look which had ignited in the pizza guy's eyes came over his expression. Helplessness. </p><p>Fear. She couldn't move for a moment, glued to the spot. </p><p>The boy was panicking, breathing heavily, chest wracking with silent sobs. He pounded his fists into the glass, eyes burning balls of light that shouldn't be real. Except they were. Just like the pizza guy's eyes, just like the voice in her head, and the raven's ability to move at a speed she could barely keep up with. "Get us the FUCK out of here!”</p><p>Betty found herself hypnotised by his eyes, glowing blazing light so beautiful, and yet so terrifying. She swallowed, tears pricking her eyes. "What did he do to you?"</p><p>The raven head laughed, the cerulean blaze of light circling his iris flashing out of existence, revealing eyes the colour of the forest. He kicked the glass wall and she staggered backwards. His eyes followed her like a predator stalking prey. "Isn't it fucking obvious, huh?" he spat, "do you think we're here for the fucking fun of it?"</p><p>It <em>was</em> obvious, Betty wanted to say. </p><p>Except she couldn't. Part of her wanted to believe it was some kind of misunderstanding. </p><p>Red chuckled inside her head. <em>My brother likes to swear. You'll get used to it.</em></p><p>That agitated the raven, and he scowled at Red. "What the fuck are you doing, huh? There's a body standing directly in front of you, and you're just leaving her?"</p><p>Body. Betty bit her lip, forcing herself to stay calm. She was just about ready to start screaming herself, when another voice prickled the silence.</p><p>"Who are you?" </p><p>The boys veered around, a sudden look of alarm crossing both of their faces. The redhead cursed in her head, while the raven just looked confused, green eyes softening.</p><p>Betty watched a shadow seemingly appear out of nowhere, and when she peered closer, features began to bleed through the halo of fraying light. It was a girl. </p><p>Dressed in the same bland shorts and t-shirt, the girl may have caught a lot of attention at one point. She reminded Betty of a cheerleader, the type of girl on the top of the High School social ladder. She was still pretty. One of the most beautiful girls Betty had ever seen.  Whatever had been done to her, however, had taken the spark from her eyes, the colour from cheeks that were gaunt, the ghost of a sharp jawline lingering.</p><p>Her skin was a warm olive shade, except it looked washed out. Too pale. The girl's hair flowed down her back like black ink of a tilted piece of parchment, straying strands dancing in eyes which were fox-like, almost feral, peering at Betty with child-like bafflement.  Before Betty could coerce words, the girl was taking long strides towards the glass. She cocked her head, pressing her palms against the pane. </p><p>"You're pretty." the girl murmured, her lips curling into a playful smile. "Are you going to get us out of here, Pretty Girl?"</p><p>To her surprise, neither of the boy's spoke. They only watched her with wide eyes. </p><p>"I can't." Betty whispered, locking eyes with her.  "I- I don't know how."</p><p>"Oh. Is that right?"</p><p>The girl's smile crept away. Her eyes darkened, that same pulsing light that had become all too familiar between the three of them, beginning to ignite her iris's. </p><p>Betty couldn't move. All of her instincts screamed at her to get away from the glass, but she stayed, stuck, all the breath drained from her lungs. The girl scowled at her before slamming her fists into the glass. This time it wasn't just her eyes that lit up. Her hands sizzled cerulean, and with another violent hit, the whole pane lit up. </p><p>"I liked you, Pretty Girl," she sighed, before opening her mouth, eyes flashing. A noise started up, slowly building in Betty's ears, before she realised the girl was screaming.</p><p>"No!" both boy's seemed to snap out of it, the two of them grabbing the girl and dragging her back, the scream cutting off, turning into a wail.</p><p>The redhead wrapped his arms around the struggling girl, pressing his face into her shoulder, while the raven closed his arms around the two of them, stopping the squeaking girl from breaking away. "You'll kill her," the redhead was gasping, his sharp breaths pulverising Betty's skull.</p><p><em>Do you hear me?</em>  He grabbed the girl's face, cradling it, his own eyes shimmering that same sizzling electric light.<em> Do you want to hurt her?</em></p><p>The girl glared back. "If it gets us out of here," she gritted out, shoving him away. "I don't care." but she didn't make a move towards the glass. </p><p>"You're an idiot." the raven-head mumbled, holding her tighter. Though now it seemed he was just hugging her, "all you'll manage to do is blow her brains out, and what then?"</p><p>"I don't care!" </p><p>With her gaze still on the three of them, huddled together, Betty managed to back away. Out. She had to get out. The girl's scream, which definitely wasn't normal, was still grazing the back of Betty's skull. She didn't even want to think about the outcome if the boy's hadn't have stopped her. She'd managed two steps when her back hit something warm. </p><p>Something fleshy. </p><p>Twisting around, her heart dived into her throat. FP was standing there, his expression hard, grey eyes piercing hers. "I came once the silent alarm went off," he said. "Elizabeth." FP 's tone was patronising, and she cringed. "What did I tell you about the basement?"</p><p>Betty was speechless for a moment, before she found her mother standing behind her step father. Betty expected her to cry out at the sight in front of her, the three kids trapped behind the wall of glass. Except Alice was frowning at her, a look of disapproval creasing her expression. </p><p>"Sweetie," she murmured. "what did I tell you about respecting your father's privacy?"</p><p>"What?" Betty laughed. Instead of answering her mother, she was making her way over to the glass. The three teens had gone silent, still clinging onto each other. Though now their eyes were wide with fear, settled on her step-father. Betty felt sick. </p><p>"Dad." she spat the word like splintered ice, "when exactly were you planning on telling me you were keeping three seventeen-year-olds down here?"</p><p>FP cleared his throat. "Elizabeth, now let's not get hasty-"</p><p>"No!" her laugh was hysterical. "No, I- I want an explanation," she gasped out. Her heart was pounding. "Now." Betty held her breath. "I want to know why they're here."</p><p>The man curled his lip. And that's when he broke through his facade, the real monster coming out. <em>Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde</em>, she thought dizzily.</p><p>"Do you really think I'm going to explain myself to a child?" </p><p>His voice was harsh, nothing like the warm murmur she was used to.</p><p>Betty steeled herself. "Well, why are they here? What do you expect me to think?!"</p><p>Ignoring her question, he strode to the monitor where Betty had knocked off the program.</p><p>"No." she whispered, her gaze finding the kids once more. The raven-head stared back at her with wide eyes, his arms still wrapped around the other two. </p><p><strong>No.</strong> The raven's lips formed the words. <strong>Please, no. </strong></p><p>Betty swallowed a cry. "Dad, don't!"</p><p>Ignoring her, the man laughed. </p><p>"Alice, it seems your daughter likes to touch things that aren't hers." He tapped the screen, and in front of her, the boys slipped to the ground, as if their puppet strings had been severed. They dropped to their knees in sync, dragging the girl with them.</p><p>Betty waited for them to jump back up, wild eyes and feral lips. But their eyes had gone blank.  Betty's heart dropped. She waited for the redhead to murmur into her head, but the three of them just sat there silently. Alice reached for Betty, gently grabbing her arm, but she pulled away with a choked cry, pressing her face against the glass. </p><p>"What did you do to them?" Betty turned back to FP, blue eyes accusing. "What did you do?"</p><p>Her step-father sighed, stepping away from the monitor. "I suppose now is the time to tell you girls about my other children." nodding at the three teens, he broke out into a smile. "Meet J, V and A. They're kids from my first marriage, and after coming to terms with the fact that they are in fact incredibly dangerous, I had no other choice but to keep them down here. Both for my wife's safety, as well as my stepdaughter."</p><p>Alice nodded slowly. "Oh sweetie, you did the right thing." she beamed.</p><p>Betty shook her head. "You're joking, right?" she hissed. "He's lying!"</p><p>FP shook his head, nodding to the raven haired boy, whose eyes were vacuous, thoughtless  once again. His expression was terrifying. Everything that had been him, the look of terror and pain, had been wiped away. "J, why not tell Elizabeth why you're down here?"</p><p>His head snapped up automatically. "I'm a menace to society, father."</p><p>A smirk prickled on FP's lips. Betty swallowed bile. He was enjoying this. Whatever control her step-father had over them, he was thriving in it. "Wonderful." his gaze flicked to the girl. "And V? Am I a bad father, hmm? or do you deserve to be down here?"</p><p>The girl seemed to come to life, pupiteered by FP's words. "I hurt people." she whispered. "I deserve to be down here, where I'm not a danger to myself and others."</p><p>"Quite." FP said, before turning to Betty, "are you satisfied?"</p><p>She wasn't. "Why not ask the redhead?" she demanded, knowing he couldn't. Because the redhead could only speak into her mind. </p><p>FP blew out an irritated breath. "Like I said before. I will not be spoken down to by a little girl." his eyes flickered to her throat. "Elizabeth, now I've told you what you want to know, I'd very much like to know where your necklace is. That gem stone was a lot of money, and was of course my gift to you when I wed your mother." his eyes searched hers. He was calm, a smile on his lips, but Betty could detect desperation. </p><p>"You haven't told me anything," Betty said coldly.  "Tell me what you're doing to those kids." she turned to Alice. "Mom, you can't possibly be okay with this!"</p><p>Alice simply smiled. "Your father is right," she said, "if they're dangerous, they belong down here."</p><p>Clenching her fists, Betty shook her head, her blood boiling.</p><p>"Can't you see he's lying? He's using them as lab rats! There's something seriously wrong with them, mom, if you would just listen-" </p><p>FP's eyes dimmed. His smile disappeared. "Betty," he growled, cutting her off. "I won't ask you again. Where is your necklace?"</p><p>Losing her bravado, Betty avoided his eyes. "I don't know."</p><p>Except she did. it was on the floor behind her. The necklace was significant, she knew that. The raven-head, even in his trance-like state had insisted on her leaving it on the ground. Betty traced her throat, pretending to search for it. "I think I took it off before I went in the shower earlier. It's still in the downstairs bathroom."</p><p>FP held her gaze for a long moment before nodding. "Wonderful." turning to Alice, the man beamed. "Sweetheart, please head upstairs and be ready to invite our guests in. I believe your daughter needs a little time out so she can calm herself down." </p><p>"Guests?" Betty parroted, her heart speeding up. "What guests?"</p><p>"Alice, I had no idea you raised a mini Nancy Drew!" FP laughed, but his eyes were hard, searching hers. "Elizabeth, you're asking far too many questions, and I'm afraid our time for talking is up. I have a meeting to attend to, and I believe it's your bedtime."</p><p>Betty folded her arms. "You're not my father." she spat. Which was true. The realisation was like a wave of ice cold water hitting her. For so long, she'd had it in her head that he was her father. He would protect her. Except he wasn't. He was a monster, and those warm thoughts soothing her, telling Betty he was the best thing to ever happen to her and her mother, were not hers. Which begged the question: how long had she been under his control, and what had put her into such a thoughtless, dreamy state?</p><p>"I'm calling the police," Betty was surprised how steady her voice was. She took careful steps back, keeping her gaze glued to the monster in front of her.</p><p>"I'm sure they'll be curious to know why an inventor has three kids in his basement," she shrugged, flashing him a smile. "you can even ask them for a DNA check, just to be sure they're yours of course."</p><p>FP's lips broke out into a terrifying grin. "Elizabeth, you have no idea what you're playing around with."</p><p>"I do." she said softly, her voice was choked. "You're hurting them. They told me you hurt them."</p><p>He inclined his head. "They are emotionally disturbed children, you little brat, of course they're going to say that."</p><p>Betty curled her lip. "Like I said. We can ask the police."</p><p>She was turning away to run, to get as far away from her mother- who was under his control- and the mad scientist who was her father, when something sharp pricked her in the back of the neck. She felt FP's snake-like arms twine around her, squeezing, almost suffocating.  All at once, it was like cold water seeping into her veins, numbing her bones. Betty felt herself go slack. She was falling, head spinning, before hitting the floor. Her tongue was entangled, words she wanted to say alphabet soup in her throat.</p><p>"Oh, dear." FP mocked a sigh. "It looks like moving day took its toll on Elizabeth. The little lamb can barely keep her eyes open."</p><p>Alice hummed. "She should go to bed. A good night's sleep will do her good."</p><p>All she could do was stare at the two shadows looming over her. Her mother and step father. FP folded his arms. When he was sure Betty was completely incapacitated, he once again slipped from his "caring father" role, straight back to Dr Jekyll. </p><p>"Her suppressor is missing, that explains why she found them in the first place." her vision was blurring, FP's figure bleeding in and out of a dense fog which began to crawl across her peripheral. His voice was fading, and Betty was plummeting, but she managed to cling on for a few precious moments, pushing through buzzing white noise taking over.</p><p>"We'll be going ahead with stage two tonight. The buyer is getting impatient, and I need to get on with the presentation. The prototypes are ready to be screened, so nothing can go wrong. Do you understand me, Alice? Your little bitch of a daughter came far too close. I want her in complete isolation at least for the next few weeks."</p><p>"Of course, honey." </p><p>Dark spots speckled her vision. Betty felt her mother's warm arms wrap around her, scooping her into the air. She smelled of lavender and blueberry tea. It felt like she was flying for a second. Her head fell against her mother's chest, choking on Alice's scent. "Take Betty upstairs." FP ordered. "Lock her in her room and get extra security. I want her to stay there until I've finished the first demonstration. If you remember what happened last time, right Alice? I'm sure you wouldn't want to lose another child." </p><p>Betty held onto those last words, trying to cling on, the pool of molasses which was her brain, attempting to register them, before she was swaying from side to side, her body numb and limp, her mother's steps far too loud in her ears, like gun shots.</p><p>And then she was falling. </p><p>FP's last words dragging her completely under. </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! please let me know you're reading by commenting and leaving kudos if you liked, and want more! :D</p><p>ive been bingeing lab rats again lol Disney plus is a god send.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Indigo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Betty finds out what her step-father's plan is, and it's a kick in the gut.</p><p>also, thus begins the slow burn to bughead ;))))</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have so many feelings for the rats??? maybe it's the playlist of music i chose to write to lol. </p><p>the slow burn begins!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>Consciousness came slowly, gentle, almost like she was swimming, taking her time to break the surface. The sheets were warm and comforting, her head nestled against what felt like feathers. It was almost like an in-between place, that calming place between wake and sleep, where it was her decision, her choice whether or not she wanted to become fully awake. But the mere thought of waking up meant relinquishing her warmth and security under the blankets, and Betty didn’t want to do that. It was only when she was seconds from slipping back under the surface did all of the details come back to her, hitting her with a force that had her gasping awake, her heart thudding against her chest. </p><p>She could still feel the sharp prick of the needle. </p><p>Swaying. Swaying.</p><p>The lights above flickering out one by one, darkness engulfing her.</p><p>Her mother's soft voice, the soles of her shoes slapping cold marble tiles.</p><p>For a moment, Betty was disoriented, lifting her head from pillows cushioning her, sweaty hands curling around sheets that were too warm, too suffocating, and pulling them back, a soft whimper flitting through dry lips. She was enfolded into the foetal position, choking on the scent of lavender sheets. That was the first thought that lit up her mind. A bed. She was in bed, cradled in expensive covers, wrapped in luxury, and they...</p><p>They didn't have any of that. </p><p>They? Who was they? For just a slither of a second, their faces, their expressions, the pain lit up in their eyes, was nowhere. It was nothing. But Betty wasn't going to let them go that easily. Before her brain could tear the memories of them apart before plunging them into the dark, she reached out and yanked them back, forcing them back into reality. They weren't a dream, she told herself, before her poisoned mind could fight back. They were real. Their pain was real. Betty steeled her thoughts, painting them inside her mind. She imagined them before she noticed their peculiars; raven dark hair, eyes the hue of the new spring growth, bright and soft all at once as they glared at her, a curl in lips almost becoming a snarl, a silent scream creasing his expression.</p><p>She thought of iris's the colour of mocha hot chocolate, flecked with gold, mutely staring back at her. And finally, a crimson halo framing a playful, and yet deadly smile.</p><p>It was enough to bring them back to clarity.</p><p>Three shadows dancing in the back of her mind, memories she so desperately clung onto, despite a vicious pull in her head, trying to yank them away. </p><p>Except The Pull lost. Betty won.</p><p>She knew who they were. They were the secret in her step-father's basement. The kids he tried to call his own, insisting they were of his own blood. </p><p>They were his dear lab rats, of course.</p><p>A, V and J were what her step father named them, but Betty knew from the broken look in A's eyes. He knew he had a name. He just didn't remember it. It almost felt offensive referring to them as letters, even in her head. FP had reduced them to nothing but ciphers to unravel, and Betty was determined to find the names they were born with.</p><p>A dull pain crept its away across the back of her head, and her brain felt like it was dragging itself through maple syrup. Betty swallowed bile climbing up her throat, the sickly taste of the Coke she'd drank earlier, making its reappearance. Even when her head spun, thoughts entangled and confusing, the overwhelming urge to burrow back into slumber was appealing. Instead of giving into the temptation however, she forced her mind into drive. Her memories were shattered but reachable, suspended in fog. All at once, they hit her, slamming into her brain, like bolts of lightning. Blue light, Betty remembered. The most beautiful cerulean light flickering between three pairs of haunted eyes staring through a wall of glass. A, J and V. The three of them huddled together, heads bowed in fear of her father. Guilt burned its way through her, tears stinging her eyes.</p><p>While she had woken to luxury, they slept on cold marble flooring, curled into themselves. From what she had seen upon first meeting them, there were no beds, sheets or pillows. Nothing to cushion their heads when they were sleeping, or keep them warm. All they had were the clothes on their backs, and even the shorts and t-shirt looked like they were made of cheap nylon, material far too thin to protect them from cold winter months. Even in mid July, Betty still felt a chill down there. There was just the floor, however. J had been sitting cross-legged when she first lay eyes on him, while A lay on his back. There was no comfort for them, FP's little rats scurrying on bare marble floor, undeserving of beds, their human rights taken away like it was nothing.</p><p>Like they were nothing; just a set of materials he could play around with. </p><p>And her father had the audacity to try and take them away, try and pick them from her brain like it was that easy. </p><p>She shoved the sheets back, biting back a yell.</p><p>Even alone, Betty could still hear their phantom cries inside her head, screaming for her to help them. V's feral eyes, lips curled into a snarl, as she hammered the glass with her fists. But she couldn't help them. She didn't... she didn't know how. </p><p>"Get us out of here!" </p><p>The memory of the boy- J's- voice seeped back into her thoughts, kicking Betty's mind to full fruition. Even nameless, he still meant something to her. Even being called "J", the cruellest of names, the lab rat her father kept behind a wall of glass, he was a teenage boy who had been taken away from everything he had ever known, his real name stolen, snatched from him by who she thought was her father. It was Betty's duty to give J his identity back, along with his mind, his free will and thoughts. Whatever FP Jones had taken from him, she was getting it back. Along with the others, his so-called brother and sister, she was saving them. She was getting them out of there, and taking them home.</p><p>The girl, or V's screech was still alive at the back of her mind, a phantom cry sending Betty sitting bolt upright, blinking rapidly through a haze of white still holding her vision in a haze. She was swaying, Betty realised. Whatever her father had injected her with was still taking effect, turning her blood to lead, her muscles to jelly. She still felt the sharp prick in the back of her neck, the betrayal and pain flooding through her vacuous thoughts as she lay in her mother's arms. Shaking the thoughts away, Betty focused on the present. The light was harsh on her eyes, and she shaded them, wincing. </p><p>When Betty's surroundings began to bleed into focus, she found herself in her bedroom. Though that should have been obvious, her mind was a drunken whirlwind. The fact that she was in her room, safe and sound and away from the monsters should have relaxed her, given Betty a sense of security, like any other kid waking at home. But looking around at the cherry red walls and cream carpet, the vanity that looked at least a thousand dollars, it was all fake. Everything was masqueraded, because her father had no care for her at all. </p><p>He was the monster. The one she should be running away from. He had been the one to imprison and hurt kids like her, in his basement, turning them into what shouldn't be possible, and yet they were. They were real, harbouring abilities that belonged in a Marvel movie. The memory of the boy, or J, throwing himself against the pane of glass, wild eyes writhing with impossible light, was enough to send her diving off the bed, nearly losing her footing when her legs didn't comply, sending Betty onto her knees. </p><p>The carpet was soft and cushioned her fall, but Betty's head was still spinning itself off of its axis, adrenaline thrummed through her, rocketing her mind into fight or flight.</p><p>"Hey, sleepyhead. I wouldn't advise any sudden movements just yet."</p><p>The voice was unfamiliar, sending prickles of panic down her spine. Her ears were yet to pop, a tinny ringing still skating the back of her thoughts, reminding Betty of the beautiful girl behind the glass. Sister, the redhead had called her. But they didn't look alike. None of them did. Even when they claimed to be siblings, part of her knew they weren't, which twisted her gut with nausea. Who had they been before FP took it away?</p><p>Lifting her head slowly, Betty glimpsed a figure standing in the doorway. </p><p>Though for a moment, her gaze wasn't on the figure, it was on the rich brown mahogany door, which was shut. Probably locked. Of course it was. Her father wanted her out of the way. Swallowing a yell, Betty's lazy eyes flickered back to the mystery person. She expected her father or mother, but was surprised to find neither. </p><p>Instead, it was a teenage girl. She was tall with rich mocha skin and pink hair tied into pigtails, stray strands hanging in brown eyes. At first glance the girl looked friendly, but looking closer, Betty could tell her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. She wore a perfectly fitted white blouse and pencil skirt. Betty couldn't help shuffling backwards, resisting the urge to hiss at the stranger, like a frenzied cat. But she couldn't help it. Her head was spinning, and every movement caused her stomach to projectile into her throat. Even a mad scientist would be pissed if she barfed all over her new room. </p><p>Betty opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue felt like it was swollen, around five times bigger than it should have been. She fixed the girl with a scowl, her lip curling. "What?" the word came out in an incoherent whimper, and Betty was horrified. She sat up straight, keeping her distance, bunching her fists into the carpet. Blinking discomfiture from her eyes, she forced herself to appear in control, but there was no way to stop her quaking limbs, or mould her expression into nonchalance. In the end, she gave up.</p><p>Slowly, Betty got to her feet, praying her shaky legs didn't give-way.</p><p>Her blue eyes flicked from the girl, to a light blue vase. With growing confidence, Betty glared at the stranger. "You've got ten seconds to tell me who the hell you are, or I'm throwing the first thing I see at your head." her words were juvenile, but Betty couldn't have felt more like a child, locked in her room, out of the way, while her step-father subjected three kids to unimaginable torture. She could still see blackening bruises painting J like a canvas, purple welts staining his wrists and neck. The details of FP's plan were still hazy. All Betty remembered was that there was a meeting he had to attend.</p><p>H.L. The name sent shivers slipping down Betty's spine. She thought back to the email which had spoken of "prototypes" and "screenings". Which what tonight must be. </p><p>A screening. Her gut twisted into knots.</p><p>For what, though? </p><p>Thinking back to before, pilfering through her memories, only made Betty think of her mother, and her heart ached. She was under some kind of control, trapped in the same trance-like state she had been in, mindlessly allowing him to step into their lives and accepting him as a father. There had to be a way to knock her mother out of it. It had happened with her, after all. The necklace she had been wearing for months now, since the wedding, had kept her in a submissive state. Where she didn't ask questions. </p><p>"Hi, Elizabeth." the girl said, snapping Betty out of her thoughts. The stranger smiled, lifting her hand in a wave. Though her eyes were kind, there was a steeliness to them. </p><p>"Betty." She snapped back. "My name is Betty."</p><p>Humming, the girl nodded. "Of course, I apologise. I'll call you Betty from now on."</p><p>Ignoring the girl, Betty's only thought was getting out of the room. When she took another step, the girl copied, shifting herself directly in front of the door. "I'm a friend of your father's, and I've been tasked with keeping an eye on you tonight."</p><p>Betty laughed. She couldn't help it. The absurdity of the girl's words sent bubbles of hysterics crawling up her throat. "What, like babysitting?" her words were slurred slightly, no doubt after effects of whatever FP had plunged into her bloodstream. She bit her lip and forced her words out steadily. "I'm sorry, do I look like a child?"</p><p>She took another step, and so did the girl. They were almost nose to nose. Betty resisted the urge to stand on her tip toes. "No." the girl inclined her head, a smirk curling on her lips. "Your father sent me to be your friend. I'm just here to look out for you."</p><p>Liar, Betty thought. But she didn't say it. She tried a different approach, stepping away, her gaze flicking to the door. The girl's eyes didn't falter, snapping to hers automatically, caramel browns following her every eye movement. She reminded Betty of a shark. "Right." Betty exhaled sharply. "Well, I'm going downstairs. I need to talk to my mom." her voice was shaking. When she darted towards the door, the girl easily slid in front of her, smooth and steady, blocking her path. Her eyes were challenging. Betty skidded back with a frustrated hiss, but kept her mouth shut, straightening up.</p><p>"Why don't we do introductions?" said the stranger, cheerily. "I'm Toni." </p><p>The girl held out her hand for Betty to shake, holding her gaze, daring Betty to try  and get past her again. The girl was of slim build and didn't seem that intimidating, but it was her eyes that sent slithers of ice creeping down Betty's spine. Toni maintained the smile, but there was something behind it, a dangerous glitter warning her to stay back. </p><p>To be complicit.</p><p>"Like your father said, lets be friends."</p><p>Betty ignored the girl's hand shake. "That man isn't my father." she said stiffly, side stepping the girl. "Get out of the way."</p><p>Toni shook her head, still smiling. She reminded Betty of a robot, her body language and expression slow and methodical, while her speech was teetering on the edge of monotone. There was even a certain glassiness to the girl's eyes that she couldn't ignore. "I can't do that, Betty. I've been instructed to make sure you stay in your room."</p><p>Folding her arms, Betty nodded. "Right. And where is FP right now?"</p><p>"He's holding a private meeting." Toni replied. Her bottom lip quirked. "No kids allowed."</p><p>Betty straightened up, refusing to break eye contact.  "So that's why you're here then? Since you're exactly the same age as me."</p><p>The girl held her gaze for a moment longer, before clearing her throat. "Do you want to watch a movie?" she pointed to the flat screen on her wall. "I heard Netflix just added a new trashy teen series. Whaddya say?" Toni's eyes sparkled with mirth. "Girls night in?"</p><p>"I've got a better idea," Betty chipped in, forcing herself to stay calm. "Did you know my step father is keeping three seventeen-year-old kids in his basement?"</p><p>Toni surprised her with a nod. Though the girl's expression darkened. Betty noticed her stiffen, whatever peals of kindness she'd had, bleeding away. "Yes." she said simply. "Your father has made it clear that asking about anything regarding his work or clients will result in immediate punishment. Is that understood, Betty?"</p><p>She couldn't help it. "Clients?" she said softly. "What clients?"</p><p>The girl's expression didn't falter. "Mr Jones is holding a screening party, as well as meeting, regarding the very first look at the prototypes for a project he's working on. He's invited colleagues, as well as clients in his field, to come and see the screening."</p><p>A fresh wave of nausea hit, threatening to send Betty to her knees. "What are the prototypes, though?" she demanded. "And what do three teenagers have to do with my step father's work?"</p><p><em>Three teenagers with impossible abilities</em>, a small voice murmured in the back of her head. Abilities that were most likely bestowed onto them by FP. Again, she thought of brimming blue light, a vicious cerulean fire circling J's fearful eyes. Just a kid, she thought. He was just a kid like her, and yet was being treated like an animal. </p><p><em>A test subject,</em> her own voice still creeping into her mind, getting progressively louder, murmured. The buyer, she remembered FP stating. "The buyer is getting impatient."</p><p>"Who is the buyer?" she choked out. "The buyer coming to look at whatever my dad is working on, who is it?"</p><p>She expected Toni to ignore her, but the girl shrugged. "Betty, sometimes it's better to live wearing rose tinted glasses. Ignorance is bliss." she flashed another shark smile. "So if I was you, I'd pick a movie to watch, or think of something we can do together. I'm afraid I can't talk about your father's work, as then I'd be breaching my contract."</p><p>"You knew them." the words were sputtering from her lips before she could stop them. This time Toni did stiffen fully, her gaze skating the carpet. It was the most human Betty had seen the the girl. Part of Betty wanted to stop, but drilling Toni for information meant freeing her father's rats. So, Betty continued. "We're the same age," she said softly. When Toni didn't respond, Betty couldn't help it. "What happened?"</p><p>The girl's gaze snapped to her. "Did you not understand me, or am I speaking in tongues?"</p><p>Betty swallowed hard. "Just their names," she said. "What are their names?"</p><p>Toni exhaled. "Their names..." she started to say, before something lit up on her ear. It took Betty several disorienting seconds to realise they were Bluetooth headphones. </p><p>Though it was no technology she'd ever seen. </p><p>"Mr Jones?" Toni stood to attention, her expression slackening, all expression, any emotion she might have had for a split second, bleeding away.</p><p>"Yeah, I'm with her now. We're in her room, as you instructed."</p><p>Betty found herself captivated by the pulsing blue light on Toni's earpiece. She eyed the door half-halfheartedly, though her chances were slim. If she was to run, Toni would most definitely catch her. "What, now?" Toni's eyes widened. "Uh, no of course not. Yes, I'll make sure to do that. Yeah. Uh-huh. Okay, I'll make it quick. Alright, bye sir."</p><p>When Toni was finished with the call, she turned her attention back to Betty. Her lips formed a smile, and any emotion that she'd displayed earlier was gone. "Betty, there's been a change of plans. Your father has invited you to the screening."</p><p>Betty frowned at the girl. "What? But..." she was cut off when Toni wandered over to the walk in wardrobe, before disappearing behind the door. Betty hadn't even looked inside. Toni's voice was muffled slightly, and she could hear the squeak of clothes being swiped left and right on metal bars.</p><p>"Your father wants you in formal wear, and suggested the Dolce And Gabbana polka-dot dress he picked out specially for these kind of events."</p><p>"I'm good." Betty said, her voice shaking. But she knew there was no point in her trying to refuse. If he had to, FP would come up and drag her downstairs himself. Though attending the mysterious screening party had positives. She could find out what exactly it was her father was planning to show off to his colleagues, as well as the identity of H.L. Plus, she could easily slip away while they were distracted by the "Prototypes" or whatever her father was building, and get down to the basement, freeing A, J and V. </p><p>Then Betty would find a phone, since hers had clearly been confiscated, and ring Kevin, as well as the police. </p><p>"Betty, get changed please. Your father doesn't like to be kept waiting." Toni had lain out her outfit on the bed. The dress was light pink, covered in red polka-dots. It was stand out, but not too showy, with shoulder straps. The shoes to go with the dress were simple heels.</p><p>With Toni turning her back, Betty slipped into the dress, and was surprised how much it fit her, hugging her figure perfectly. She stood in front of the mirror, running her fingers through rich garment, unable to stop thinking about the agony in J's eyes. The desperation. His clothes were rags compared to hers. </p><p>Looking at herself, frowning at her reflection in the mirror, Betty was reminded of Polly's eagerness to be a princess when they were kids. Polly was obsessed with Disney movies, insisting on being the princess when they played made-up games. </p><p>Looking at her reflection, Betty realised she truly did look like a princess, but when she looked closer, when she really looked at herself, Betty realised that Polly was back, peering through haunted blue eyes. Not real. Betty squeezed her eyes shut and opened them. But her sister was still there, staring at her, that silent, mute scream tugging on Betty's lips. Once again fear found her. It spoke to her in its cackling voice. It told her legs to go weak, her stomach to lurch and her heart to ache. </p><p>Polly. Betty almost whispered her sister's name. Her eyes stung, her throat dried up, and once again, the breath was being sucked from her lungs. How did Polly die again? The question struck her, as it did so many times before. But before, it had been more mellow, more of a passing thought, quickly bleeding away into nothing. Except this thought was like a wave of ice water hitting her, threatening to pull Betty under completely. She felt the change automatically; gooseflesh writhing down her arms and legs, her chest and stomach constricting. Her own voice began to cry out in her head, too weak to flitter from her actual lips. Polly. Betty wanted to scream. Her breathing grew rapid, the world around her blurring through tears. Polly. Oh god, Polly. What happened to Polly?!</p><p>
  <em>A fire. </em>
</p><p><em>It was a fire,</em> she'd been told. Three years ago, Betty had been told her sister had died in a fire. </p><p>But there was no fire.</p><p>Betty's breaths grew smaller. Her own wail progressed louder in her mind. </p><p>She was fourteen, her freshman year of high school. The memory was like a tidal wave, and Betty had to fight to stay on her feet. They were in her room, talking about something that wasn't important. Betty could smell the perfume her sister had been wearing, as well as the aroma of freshly cut grass from the neighbours lawn.</p><p>She could taste the ice lolly she'd been eating. Cherry and blueberry.</p><p>Polly had been plaiting her hair, the two of them sitting on her bed. Before...before...a knock. There was a knock on the door. </p><p><em>"Mom?"</em> Polly's voice. <em>"Can you get that? It might be Jason!"</em></p><p>There was no reply. </p><p><em>"Mom?"</em> Polly's voice again, shouting for their mother, before turning to a much younger Betty, whose eyes were wide. <em>"Did mom come back from the store?"</em></p><p>Betty nodded. Alice was definitely downstairs, because she had been the one to give Betty the popsicle. </p><p>Polly turned to her with a reassuring smile.<em> "I'll be right back, okay?"</em> she rolled her eyes. <em>"It's probably Jason being three hours early as always."</em></p><p><em>"Okay."</em> her own voice. Betty watched the blonde whirlwind which was her sister slip out of the room, before her light footsteps descending on the stairs. </p><p>Then... silence. </p><p><em>"Polly?"</em> she'd whispered, before jumping off the bed, yelling a little louder,<em> "Hey, Polly? Mom?"</em></p><p>
  <em>No reply.</em>
</p><p><em>"Polly?"</em> her voice, more frenzied, and then again this time, a scream. </p><p>The scream, despite being in her memory, slowly started to bleed into reality, and Betty realised her younger selves phantom cry was projecting from her mouth. She couldn't stop it, the screech was like a monster tearing its way from her lips.</p><p>Polly was still there, still staring at her, her sister's forlorn expression was enough to send her spiralling, black spots spotting her vision. Cool hands stroked the back of her neck, fingers prickling across flushed skin, and the sensation of something cold, something ice cold, snapped her out of it. Her sister's name began to curl on her lips, and there were words she wanted to cry out, before...nothing. Before the same pull that tried to take her father's rats, once again snatched the memories of her sister. </p><p>The ones she wanted to remember. The ones she had to remember...she had to remember. </p><p>Had to hold on to them.</p><p>Something snapped inside her head, and Betty let go. All at once, she felt herself relax, the pain and anger dispersing, making way for a sense of euphoria beginning to ignite inside of her, pushing all the bad thoughts away, a wave of warm water enveloping her.</p><p>
  <em>Polly died in a fire. </em>
</p><p>Yes, of course. How could she have forgotten?  </p><p>"There. Now you're perfect." Toni's voice. Betty let out a soft breath. Her hand went to the curve of her neck, pulling awkwardly at something that glistened in the reflection, a glitter of silver lining her throat. The necklace. Betty fingered the gem stone, her gaze finding her reflection once more. She surprised herself with a smile.  Polly disappeared from her own eyes, and Betty was overcome with...warmth. It bled into her, sweet and gentle, filling her with calm. Polly died in a fire, her mother's words graced her mind once again, and she found herself nodding, clutching the gem stone until her thumb bled.</p><p>Polly died in a fire. Her eyes followed the small spot of scarlet blossoming on the flesh of her thumb, but there was no pain. Not really. More of a dull sting. The red however, did remind her of something....something she was supposed to remember. Something she had promised herself not to forget. Except she had. The thought was gone before she could fully register it. Her hands fell to her sides, and Toni took a step back, admiring the dress with a wide smile. "Your father will be proud." she hummed, running a brush through Betty's curls, brushing them out. "Do you want your hair up or down?"</p><p>"Down." the answer came out of nowhere, flitting from her lips before she could stop it. </p><p>"Uh huh," Toni murmured, continuing to brush. "And are you going to be an inconvenience to your father tonight? or are you going to be a good girl?"</p><p>"Good." she whispered. The words weren't hers, but her lips suddenly had a mind of their own. Something had slipped away, Betty realised, slithers of panic starting to uncoil in her gut. There was a cavern in her mind, a hole that had opened up, all logical thoughts, everything she wanted to hold onto for dear life, slipping away without an anchor. </p><p>Toni nodded with a satisfied smile. "That's what I thought, Betty." </p><p>Before Betty could speak, before she could try and spit out what she really wanted to say, choked up words that scathed her numb lips, refusing to break through her tongue, like, "How do you know the rats?" and "Tell me about them. Tell me what my father did to them." she couldn't. Her voice was gone. The girl grabbed her shoulders gently and spun her around to face her. "Are you going to keep asking questions about your father's project, or are you going to keep your mouth shut and make a good impression in front of the buyer's?"</p><p><em>Buyers</em>. Betty's blood ran cold in her veins.</p><p>Whoever H.L was, FP was trying to sell them something.</p><p><em>The program</em>, she thought. It must be the program. </p><p>And what...the kids were FP's lab rats? Was he testing the program on them? </p><p>What about the afflictions she had seen with her own eyes?  Possible side effects?</p><p>Staring back at the toffee skinned girl, she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Her voice had been sucked away, breath drained from her lungs. No. She wanted to say. No, there was no way she was doing anything for him. He was a psycho, a mad scientist using three teenagers in experiments defying human nature. That's what Betty wanted to say, to scream in the girl's face. Except completely different words were blooming in her throat and  rushing out in a sharp gasp of breath, her chest constricting when she tried to keep them back, tried to speak for herself.  "I'm going to act like the perfect daughter." </p><p>"Mmm." Toni fingered the necklace, "Yes you will." the girl let out a sharp exhale and wrapped her hand around Betty's bicep, sharp fingernails digging into Betty's naked skin. Except there was no pain, only the ghost of a sting that barely brushed her foggy mind. </p><p>Betty was stiff, paralysed, as the girl dragged her from her room, and then down fancy wooden steps. The necklace around her neck, she thought hysterically. It was controlling her, keeping her mouth shut. She wondered why her father had let her keep her mind, choosing to puppeteer her words instead. Stumbling, Betty struggled to keep up with Toni. The further they descended down the staircase, the murmur of voices she heard upon coming out of her room, was growing louder. Toni's grip tightened around her arm when they reached the elevator, stepping inside. The girl practically dragged Betty in with her. </p><p>"Your father holds his business meetings on floor three," the girl murmured, her fingers dancing across the keypad. "He's giving you an opportunity to see his work."</p><p>"I don't want to see his work." she wanted to spit out stubbornly. </p><p>When in reality, she did. Whatever her father was selling had something to do with the program the kids were still under. Prototypes, her mind began to whirr with questions. Was the program he used on A, J and V a prototype? No, he'd spoken of three. Did that mean there were three versions of it? Betty pressed her lips together, gagging what was probably senseless praise for her father. She stayed silent, glaring at her reflection. </p><p>The elevator ascended, and in turn, Betty's stomach dropped.  </p><p>Toni must have noticed her discomfort. "Don't worry, there's refreshments," she turned to Betty, flashing a smile. "I'm sure you're hungry, right Elizabeth?"</p><p>Fuck you. Betty wanted to hiss. Before she could, however, her lips were stretching into a wide, unnatural smile. "Of course." the reply slipped out before she could stop it. </p><p>"I did know them." Toni said, after a beat. She turned, offering Betty a mocking smile. "I bet you're desperate to know their names, huh?"</p><p>Tell me. Betty willed the words to her throat, saying them over and over again in her head. Except when she tried, she couldn't. </p><p>"Well?" Toni inclined her head. "Do you want to know their names or not?"</p><p>This was cruel, Betty thought. She felt beads of sweat trickle down the back of her neck. FP hadn't taken her mind, but he had left her self awareness. Which was either a blessing, or a curse. Toni seemed to be enjoying herself. "Come on, Betty. I know you want to know who they were," she chuckled. "Why so silent?"</p><p>Betty could only glare at the girl, willing her voice to come out. </p><p>Except it didn't. </p><p>When it became clear she wasn't going to speak, the girl hummed. "Oh. Well, I guess you don't care about them after all." she shrugged. "Their names were lame, anyway."</p><p>Knowing that A, J and V did have an identity, something to go back to when she rescued them from her step-father, was enough to stop Betty from breaking apart completely.  </p><p>After a moment of silence, with Betty struggling to move her own feet, unless she was granted permission by the necklace keeping her mind hostage, wrapped in disorienting cotton candy, the elevator came to a stop, and Toni stepped out, her heels clicking, this time on hard wooden floor. Betty followed, struggling to keep up with her own erratic movements. The hallway was long and narrow, and the chatter was loud now, collapsing into white noise in Betty's ears. Toni led her into a room at the end of the hall, which reminded her of a school auditorium, though there were no chairs, only a crowd of around twenty or so people, men dressed in suits and women in cocktail dresses, sipping on wine. They moved around the room like cockroaches, identical smiles plastered on their faces. </p><p>The room itself was spacious, expensive wooden floor beneath her feet, chandeliers hanging above. There was a stage set up at the front, a digital presentation projected onto the far wall, a microphone stand being stationed on a marked X. </p><p><strong>PROJECT INDIGO.</strong> The beginning slide said, in bold capital letters.</p><p>
  <strong>SCREENING STARTS: 11:30 PM. </strong>
</p><p>Toni let go of her arm. "Why don't you mingle?" she murmured, snatching a glass of wine from a table lain out in front of them. She held out the drink, and Betty reached out to grab it automatically, her fingers wrapping around cool crystal. "Loosen up a little, alright?" Toni nodded at her, a smile curving on her lips. "Why not have a sip, hmm? It's the finest wine in your father's cellar, sweetie. The drink belonging to the elite."</p><p><em>Yes</em>, a soothing voice murmured in her head. <em>Your father has the best wine selections. </em></p><p>"Yes." she choked out. "My..my father has the best wine selections." </p><p>Betty's grip tightened around the glass, especially when Toni's eyes hardened. "Go on." the girl urged her, "Have a drink. It'll settle your nerves. Trust me."</p><p>She didn't have a choice. Betty wanted to drop the glass, peeling her fingers from encrusted silver. Instead, coaxed by the control holding her in a vice grip, Betty took a small sip, letting it slide down her throat in a bitter bile. Toni didn't tear her gaze away, brown eyes glinting with unkempt amusement. "Are you enjoying that?"</p><p><em>Of course, it's the buyer's favourite,</em> the voice hummed. </p><p>"Yes," she gasped out, her voice gurgling on the next drink, and Betty felt The Pull once again, forcing her to take more gulps, despite the wine burning her throat. This time it dared her to try and hold back, try and fight it. "It's...it's the buyer's favourite."</p><p>Toni nodded, sipping her own glass. "Indeed it is," she said. The girl glanced at her watch, her brow raising. "Ah, the presentation is about to start."</p><p>What presentation?! Betty wanted to scream. Project Indigo was the name of the project, but what was it? What was her father planning? </p><p>Was he going to present the program? Some kind of mind control software? </p><p>Betty couldn't take her eyes off of the screen. At the corner of her eye, she noticed the crowd start to come apart, slowly beginning to congregate in front of the stage. Her legs forced her forwards, stumbling in her heels, right to the front. She straightened up, her lips once again forming a wide smile, full of adoration for the monster about to take the stage. Betty's stomach turned with anticipation. This was it, she thought. </p><p>The lights dimmed suddenly, FP making his way onto the stage. </p><p>"Welcome." He was dressed in a white shirt and tie, perhaps the cleanest Betty had ever seen him. "Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen." his eyes found hers, and she cringed when his lips formed a crooked grin. Triumph was plastered across his expression, and her gut twisted. He knew she couldn't talk. Couldn't scream. Could barely breathe. Part of her expected the FP she thought she knew to come back, warm eyes and lips curled into a soft smile. Except no. The man only grinned at her. He was enjoying her pain and discomfort, the fact that she was trying so hard, pushing to the limit to fight back.</p><p>Still smiling like cat with the cream, FP turned to the audience.</p><p>"Now, first of all, I'd like to thank my beautiful wife and daughter," he said into the mic. "Alice and Betty. I couldn't have done this without your support."</p><p>Betty's heart clenched at her father's words, but when she glimpsed her mother standing near the stage, the bottom dropped out of her. Alice was dressed in a short cream dress, her hair tied into a ponytail. Her mother was smiling brightly, blue eyes glued to FP. </p><p>The audience erupted into applause, and once again, Betty was on auto pilot, smiling and waving, playing the shy little girl part almost too perfectly.</p><p>Though despite her expression and limbs being played with to someone else's will, Betty's eyes were on Alice. <em>Mom's suppressor,</em> Betty thought. She had to remove it somehow. </p><p>First though, she had her own to worry about, of course. The necklace felt like it was cutting into the flesh of her throat. It still held control of her movement and lips, but she had free thought. Which meant there was a still a way of removing it.</p><p>"Now," FP's voice started up again, drawing Betty's gaze back to the stage. "I of course can't begin the screening without bringing my partner onto the stage. He's been by my side for seventeen years, and without him, I would never have gotten this far."</p><p>Betty's heart started to stampede in her chest. </p><p>"Please welcome my best friend, my wonderful partner in this project..." FP dragged out the latter of his sentence, eagerly gesturing to the left side of the stage. </p><p>"Fred Andrews!"</p><p>
  <em>Andrews. </em>
</p><p>A spike of familiarity crept into Betty's mind. </p><p>She knew that name from somewhere. When Betty tried to reach for scattered thoughts dancing around the back of her mind, she was shoved back, restricted from them. </p><p>More applause broke out, louder, whistles and cheers. A man strode onto the stage in a simple suit. He looked to be around FP's age, handsome features and thick black hair, making him look more like an Oscar winner. Though the man - Fred- didn't have a speech. He stood at FP's side, beaming to the audience. FP gave him a quick hug, before pulling away. "Fred." He said into the mic, chuckling. The audience laughed along with him, and something slithered up Betty's spine, just watching the two of them hug it out.</p><p>"Oh, Freddie, boy. You know I fully respect you for your valuable contribution to this project," FP said, throwing his arms around the man, "Without your boy, Andrews? I wouldn't be standing here today." he spun back to the audience, his movements playful, almost like he was dancing. "Hell, I wouldn't be standing in front of any of you!"</p><p>Even still being under a certain amount of control, Betty raked her mind through what was being said. Fred Andrews, FP's partner, had contributed something. </p><p>But...what was it?</p><p>She'd heard it, loud and clear. But when Betty tried to go back over what she'd heard, a barrier had been put up, blocking her out. Frustrated, Betty forced her mind into gear. But the thought was gone, slipping into the dark, taken automatically by The Pull. </p><p>Materials. They must be talking about materials. </p><p>Had Fred Andrews donated the components to create the mind control program?</p><p>"Are you proud of what I've done with your... contribution, Freddie?" FP's smug smile was unbearable. Betty gritted her teeth, biting back a cry she knew wouldn't come. </p><p>Fred nodded. But he didn't speak, which seemed to thrill FP further. "Okay! Well, now I think it's time to start the screening! Ladies. Gentlemen. Please put your devices away. There will be no flash photography, and what you're about to see is for the citizens of Riverdale's eyes only. I have measures in place to make sure everything I show you tonight does not get out this room. Are we in agreement, Mr and Mrs Lodge?"</p><p>A shiver made its way down Betty's spine. Lodge. She couldn't turn around, the necklace making sure her body was facing the stage. Hiram and Hermione Lodge, she thought dizzily. </p><p>The Mayor of Riverdale and his wife. </p><p>What did they want with a mind control device? Except from the obvious. </p><p>"Get on with it, FP." a male voice droned.</p><p>Betty's bare arms prickled with gooseflesh. That was unmistakably Hiram Lodge's voice.</p><p>She ached to turn around, to scan the crowd for Riverdale's leaders, but she couldn't. </p><p>"Gotcha, Mr Lodge." FP said, gesturing for Fred to stand to the side. he took centre stage. "Now, I've worked tirelessly for seventeen years to perfect what I'm aiming to be our town's future. Our kids future. The next stage of man reborn in Riverdale."</p><p>What? Betty would have laughed, but her lips were sealed. </p><p>The crowd were silent in anticipation. FP cleared his throat. "It wasn't my decision to have a screening tonight. In my eyes, they are not finished, and need a lot more work. Though of course, I understand that you want to know what you will be buying," he chuckled at his own joke. "And, I guess I'll get right to it. I'd very much like to introduce to you the first three prototypes of Project Indigo." he turned his head, his gaze on something Betty couldn't see.  "Children, if you'd like to step forward."</p><p>At the sound of her step father's words, Betty wanted nothing more but to tear her gaze away, icy fingers tip toeing down her spine, as the jagged jigsaw pieces in her mind slowly began to piece together. She couldn't look away, bile creeping up her throat. </p><p>The needles were back, sticking into Betty's spine, piercing her flesh, as she watched A, J and V step onto the stage. Her heart quickened, slamming into her chest. There was a murmur of voices from the crowd, as the three of them mindlessly stood next to her step father. "I know what you're thinking," FP laughed. "Why exactly am I showing you children? Teenagers to be exact," he let out a laugh. "Well, let me show you."</p><p>The crowd tittered, and Betty stared. If she could move, she would dive forwards onto the stage. If she could open her mouth, she would scream until her throat was raw, all of her breath stolen from her lungs. A, J and V looked...incredible. Though, only a small part of her thought that. That part of course saw their perfect build and hair, vibrant crimson and obsidian, not a strand out of place. But the rest of her saw how truly inhuman they had become. They reminded her more of objects; their eyes were vacant, any expression she had seen earlier, any fear and pain ripping them apart inside, had been wiped away. They were no longer wearing the clinical rags she'd seen them in before. </p><p>Instead, they wore what looked like a second skin. Betty was vaguely reminded of the Power Rangers costumes, though a lot more modernised. They were simple black body suits perfectly hugging their figures.</p><p>Betty stared. </p><p>Soldiers. That's what were being presented as. </p><p>"I of course do not have names for them yet," FP said cheerily, before shoving A to the front. The boy didn't stumble or cry out. He stared forwards, unblinking. "Once again, thank you Fred for your contribution," FP said, shooting a smile at the man. "You could have run, Freddie. You could have taken our miracle away with you, but of course, you let me turn him into something wonderful. Something we both can be proud of."</p><p>The crowd murmured, sympathetic sighs, and aww's exchanged. Betty felt like she'd been punched in the gut, and the final jigsaw piece slid into place in her mind. </p><p>Fred Andrews hadn't donated materials for a physical thing FP was creating. Looking at A, even past the furnishings done to him, the resemblance was uncanny. A was Fred's son, and he'd "donated" the boy to FP, to the man's cruel experiments, which included the boy losing his voice. A shriek of hysteria began to bubble its way up her throat.</p><p>Fred had given his son to the project, happily standing by as his son was twisted beyond recognition. Betty's step-father wasn't testing the program on them. He wasn't screening some mad scientist like contraption to the town. No. A, J and V were the prototypes. He was building them to be sold. To be bought, by the crowd of adults surrounding her. </p><p>"Prototype One," FP said, gesturing to A. "He has a very special ability to 'jump' inside any human body, within a mile radius. I am working on the distance, and can assure you the final product will have a much farther distance. Now, please stand by for a demonstration."</p><p>The redhead took a step forwards, before his eyes flashed that same brilliant cerulean light, eyes flickering. FP nodded along. "What you're seeing is an inferred connection shared between the three of them. This allows the ability to telepathically communicate. Now, it can be quite distressful for the prototypes, so that is one of many reasons why I have chosen to keep them under a semblance of control, to keep them in line."</p><p>Turning to the redhead, FP clicked his fingers. "Show them what you can do."</p><p>A crumpled to the ground, and the crowd gasped, but FP chuckled. "Don't worry, the boy is just leaving his body. I am working on that too, of course. Now, if you'd like to turn around, you will find Prototype One occupying a volunteer at the back of the room."</p><p>Finally, Betty was allowed to move. She cringed when her body spun around, her eyes skimming the crowd, before landing on a blonde haired girl in a white dress. </p><p>Her eyes were writhing with light, her arms slack at her sides. </p><p>"Thank you, Prototype One." FP said. The crowd watched in amazement as the girl fell back, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. And back at the front, A rose once more, not a speck of expression on his face. FP had a proud smile. "As well as being able to 'jump' he has built in heightened strength, agility, as well as intelligence."</p><p>The crowd began to murmur excitedly. FP continued, "There is a slight bug with this specific model. This one has no voice, but once again, he will be fixed."</p><p>Betty stared hard at A, wiling him to wake up, to creep into her mind. </p><p>But there was nothing, and her heart sank.</p><p>"Now, onto Prototype Two!" FP practically sang, grabbing J around the arm and yanking him to his side. "This one is my favourite. Unlike the others, this dear boy was an orphan. He came to us, homeless, a skinny thing at that. He asked us to take the pain away."</p><p>The crowd once more let out a sympathetic, "Awww!"</p><p><em>Liar.</em> Betty felt a twitch in her hand. <em>Liar</em>. Her eyes stung, but no tears came.<em> Liar!</em></p><p>J was stiff. His eyes, like A, were blank. Please. She mentally pleaded for the boy to wake up, to open those brilliant green eyes, wild and feral, screaming at her to help them. </p><p>"And we did. We took him in, and after he consented to the project, we turned him into something worthwhile." FP continued. "Onto the second demonstration"</p><p>Betty thought she was imagining it when her step-father whipped out a gun, before pulling the trigger directly at J's head. But the bullet simply bounced off of him. </p><p>The crowd erupted into excited chatter. </p><p>"I call him the human shield." FP said, wrapping his arm around the boy, and pulling him close. "This boy cannot die. Through extensive research I found a way to manipulate DNA to become bullet proof," he grinned. "Well, everything proof. This boy cannot be killed."</p><p>There were scattered gasps, her step-father clearly enjoying them. "Yes, you heard me right." ignoring questions being flung at him, FP gestured to J. "Now, like the others, he has heightened strength, ability and intelligence. As well as speed-"</p><p>Before FP could finish his sentence, J was flashing from corner to corner, showing off his speed.</p><p>More excited gasps from the crowd.</p><p>FP nodded like a proud parent. "Yes, yes. It's wonderful."</p><p>J and A stepped back, and V stepped forwards. "Finally, Prototype Three," he continued. "Once again, donated to us by the lovely late Carolina Gomez, who we lost a few years ago. God rest her soul."</p><p>V. Betty's heart splintered. She had a mom. A family. </p><p>A mom who was dead.</p><p>Something told her Carolina Gomez's death wasn't an accident.</p><p>FP didn't pause to mourn properly, jumping back into his presentation. </p><p>"You know the gist by now. Telepathy, intelligence, strength and agility. As well as what I call a Ballistic Scream. For obvious reasons I cannot have her demonstrate her ability, but I will tell you that her scream emits frequencies high enough to  haemorrhage the human brain, as well as infrastructure and objects. Prototype Three, is by far my most dangerous creation, but I'm confident when she is finished she will be stable. All three of them will go through one more procedure, giving their powers an, ah, a boost."</p><p>This time, the crowd were silent. </p><p>FP wasn't fazed, however. He spread out his arms. "That, my friends, is Project Indigo. The first Prototypes in what I'm calling the first steps to controlling our youth."</p><p>There was a pause, before the crowd exploded into loud applause, though quickly collapsing into white noise in Betty's mind. Her step father's last words were still in the back of her head, slamming into her. The first steps to controlling our youth. </p><p>A, J and V were just the beginning, in what Betty could only call trafficking. Her head spun. FP was trafficking kids he had experimented on, selling them to Riverdale's elite.</p><p>The lights flashed back on, FP striding back at the mic. A, J and V stood together, still vacant. Betty couldn't bare to look at them. Not when she knew their real selves. "Well?" his gaze was no doubt on the Lodge's. Fred stood at his side. "What do you think?"</p><p>Once again, Betty felt her body being pulled around to face the two culprits. Hermione and Hiram Lodge. The richest people in Riverdale, and didn't they look it. Hiram was tall, smooth golden skin and slicked back raven hair, while Hermione was practically his twin, dark cascading velvet hair cascading down her back. Hiram was in a suit, and Hermione wore a long velvet gown which matched her hair. The two of them looked impressed. "We'll take them." Hiram said with a stiff nod. "When they're finished, of course." he raised a brow. "That will be soon, right FP?"</p><p>"Of course, Mr Lodge." FP nodded eagerly. "Give me a few more weeks, and they'll be perfect."</p><p>Hermione hummed. "I don't like their faces," she murmured. "There is far too much expression on them, Jones. We didn't ask for children. We asked for soldiers." a smile curved on perfectly painted lips. "The first in line of riverdale youngsters who will be working for us."</p><p>Soldiers. Betty was paralysed, only able to watch the conversation unfold, when all she wanted to do was dive onto the stage, and wrap her arms around the three of them. </p><p>FP was practically bouncing up and down. "Yes, Mrs Lodge. "Once I'm finished and satisfied with the final product, they’ll undergo what is called a Swipe, which leaves them a blank slate. All memories, even the ones I temporarily suppressed to cut ties from their identities will be fully removed. For extra, I’ll halt the ageing process.” He smirked. “Unless of course, you’d like them to age normally?”</p><p>Hermione scoffed. "Oh, good lord, no!"</p><p>The crowd laughed, and Hiram nodded. "FP, I expect them to be ready in the coming week," he said. "In fact, I'd like another demonstration three days from now." He cocked his head. "Did you say you were going ahead with phase two tonight?"</p><p>FP nodded, but his expression crumpled. He stepped off the stage, making his way over to them.  "That's right."</p><p>"Wonderful. Then I'd like an update and demonstration tomorrow afternoon."</p><p>"Yes, sir. Of course."</p><p>"Don't let me down, Jones." Hiram's lip quirked. "I see you sorted out the daddy problem."</p><p>FP hummed. "As much of a pain in the pain in the ass he is, I need his brain."</p><p>Hiram chuckled. "Freddie was always the more intelligent one..."</p><p>Betty was so captivated by the conversation, she barely noticed someone tap her on the back. But she couldn't move. Luckily, the stranger moved in front of her, and she recognised the boy automatically; sharp cheekbones, spiky black hair and olive skin. Not to mention the pizza Hut baseball cap. Reggie. The pizza guy who had freaked her out when A had took over his body. That didn't seem to be the case this time, however. </p><p>"Blondie?" Reggie looked as surprised to see her, as she did him. The boy stuck out like a sore thumb, hastily pulling off his cap. "Fuck, I should have known from earlier," he rolled his eyes. "do you have some kind of fetish? do you like guys taking off your bling?"</p><p>She couldn't reply. Couldn't move. Reggie shook his head and leaned close. "Also, I have no idea what the fuck is going on here. Is this like, the Illuminati HQ? Anyway, I've been paid to do this, so just like, don't freak out, alright? This weirdo bumped into me and offered me like fifty dollars to yank off some chick's necklace. Now I don't care how weird it is bro, fifty bucks is more than I make in a week and I'm not kidding."</p><p>Reggie. Betty wanted to grit out. </p><p>Do it. </p><p>"Anyway," Reggie choked out a nervous laugh, before she felt the tips of his fingers fighting with the clasp. "Fuck," he muttered. "the damn thing's stuck."</p><p>FP and Hiram were still talking. She could hear them. Reggie resorted to yanking at the necklace. "Dude, this thing is glued to your neck! What even is it, anyway?" he lowered his voice. "Also, not to sound rude, but do you guys, like legit eat people? is that what all of this is? Just some mass eating people party? Because bro, that's fucked up."</p><p>Betty ignored the boy, hyper focused on FP talking to the buyers. Her mother had joined them, Fred Andrews standing at her side.</p><p>Another pull, and... "Yes!" Reggie hissed. "Fucking finally!"</p><p>The sensation that came over her was all too familiar, torrents of relief spreading through her veins, relaxing her muscles. She could move again. Breathe again. </p><p>"Thank you." she managed to get out, "Now, get out of here."</p><p>"Huh?" Reggie said, but she was already moving towards the stage, her gaze dead-set on the laptop, which could only be running the program trapping the rats in a trance. </p><p>Kicking off her heels, Betty leapt onto the stage. A, V and J were still standing immobile. She glimpsed Reggie in the crowd, still frowning at her. </p><p>No. He wasn't looking at her. He was staring, wide-eyed at the rats. </p><p>What The Fuck? He mouthed, and Betty could only mouth back, Get Out Of Here!</p><p>She turned back to the laptop which was settled on the stage floor, the screen displaying the presentation. Thankfully, the projection had already been switched off, so her meddling wouldn't be broadcasted. Quickly, she clicked out of the presentation, and sure enough, the program tab was running at the bottom of the screen. </p><p>Yes, Betty had to bite back a cry of relief. Her fingers danced across the tracking pad, the box popping up. Scrolling down the bottom, the buttons were still there. </p><p><strong>END</strong> and <strong>RUN. </strong></p><p>Heart hammering, Betty clicked END, all the blood rushing to her head. </p><p>The box disappeared, and a sharp gasp caused her head to snap up. J. He'd stumbled forwards, eyelids flickering, expression returning like a wave. His hands went to his hair, tugging at it, frenzied eyes flitting back and forth. He looked like a caged animal, lips curled back. Betty managed to stand up, and then his eyes were on her; His eyes, she allowed herself to feel happy, revelling in the flickers of humanity returning to his face. The kid she'd met behind the glass was back. </p><p>The boy's iris's were a washed out green, like he'd cried too many times and the colour had ran. J's expression crumpled, and Betty's heart did a flipping over thing. Her heart ached for him. The orphan turned into a freak. "You?" he croaked, his voice a soft cry. She glimpsed the first flickers of blue light igniting. His fists clenched, and he managed another step towards her, cerulean light expanding in his pupils.</p><p>"You're with them?"</p><p>Her dress, Betty thought dizzily. Before she could speak, Betty caught A shaking his head, blinking rapidly, mocha browns widening when he realised where he was. </p><p>"You're with them." J repeated, backing away from her. His eyes were child-like, his bottom lip trembling. "Get away from me," he staggered into A, reaching out for the other boy, who seemed to respond to his touch, wrapping an arm around the raven head.</p><p>"No." Betty managed to choke out, before A seemingly pulled himself together, his voice seeping into her mind. His eyes burned into hers. <em>Betty?</em></p><p>She only managed a nod. </p><p><em>We're weak</em>, A gasped out. <em>Mr Jones must have made us use our abilities. You've...you've got to get us out of here. </em></p><p>"Right," Betty hissed out, but then V's knees were hit the floor. Her hands went to her face, her eyes expanding, lips forming an O. </p><p>Betty dropped to her knees beside the girl, attempting to comfort her, but the girl squeaked in fright, shuffling backwards, slamming her hands over her ears.</p><p>"Elizabeth!"</p><p>The booming yell stopped Betty in her tracks. Betty twisted around to meet FP's look of fury. The crowd had gone silent, and it was then when she began to glimpse familiar faces jumping out. Sheriff Keller, Kevin's father. Clifford and Penelope Blossom. Standing by the door was Mr Weatherbee, the high school teacher. Betty straightened up slowly, stepping in front of the rats. FP was striding over to her, scowling. Hiram and Hermione Lodge were at his side. "What do you think you're doing?"</p><p>"I..." Betty caught sight of Reggie hanging back, wide eyes glued to her. She swallowed hard, before grabbing the laptop. "Come any further, and I'll destroy it." her voice was shaking. "I mean it, dad." </p><p>"FP." Hiram spoke up, his gaze flicking to Betty. "Is the blonde part of the presentation, or have you ultimately failed to control your step daughter?" his expression twisted with greed, eyes glinting. "I'd be willing to pay extra for her."</p><p>FP's eyes hardened. "She's not for sale." He gritted out, his gaze didn't leave Betty. "Sweetie," he spat at Alice. At the corner of her eye, Toni was hurrying forwards, though keeping her distance. "Control your fucking daughter." he turned to Hiram and Hermione. "Mr and Mrs Lodge, I do apologise. Please excuse her."</p><p>The Lodge's didn't seem fazed. Hiram shook his head with a smile. "Fascinating." he took a step forward, inclining his head, his gaze stuck to Betty. </p><p>"Polly Cooper, the catalyst of this whole project."  his lips broke out into a grin.  "It's been a while."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So what's Polly's involvement? ;) There's a scene I've already written for the next bit, which made me a little tearful idk. It got to me lol. Anyway, please leave kudos, and make sure to let me know what you think! I'm motivated by comments, such as critical feedback, so that would be incredibly helpful! &lt;3 also, idk i just like to know people are reading, so I can write more :D thank you so so so much for the support so far! Also, question: would you guys prefer Archie and Ronnie having a sibling-type relationship, or an actual romance? Let me know! I'm not sure lol</p><p>I'm estimating the next bit wil be out Monday/Tuesday :')</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Three Years Earlier</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Three years earlier, Jughead is slowly losing himself being subjected to FP Jones's crimes against human nature, and his only companions are his fellow rats, the jock and the cheerleader.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, so the full chapter is nearly 15k, so I'm splitting it up, adding the first bit today, and hopefully the second part Wednesday or Thursday :D </p><p>ALSO there's a little surprise this chapter! I feel like adding this gives me a doorway into future relationships between this specific character, and maybe another,,,, specific character ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>In the beginning, Jughead was not invincible. </p><p>Like any other normal human being, he bled. </p><p>The blood didn't gush in a constant flow, but in time with the beating of Jughead's heart. At first it came thick and strong, flowing down his fingers as he made a fist. He felt the blood move over his hand, the thick fluid no warmer or cooler than his own skin, dripping in sharp jets of red staining smooth olive. After a few moments more the blood was still leaving his rapidly paling flesh, but the pulses were slower, weaker. He held in a sharp breath, biting back the cry which was slowly bubbling up his throat. Mr Jones's latest cut left him once again feeling like he couldn't breathe, weights pressing down on his chest. He stared hard at the clean cut, cringing when he thought about how much pressure had been put on the blade as it sliced a perfect V into his hand.</p><p>Bright Sanguine was already staining the front of the shirt he'd been forced into, crimson smears decorating clinical white. But he didn't care. The clothes Mr Jones made him wear made him feel like a lab rat. Though he guessed that was exactly what he had become; a human guinea pig trapped behind a wall of glass. Cradling his disfigured hand to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut tight, Jughead curled further into himself, burying his head in his knees and forcing his foggy mind into fruition. But the cocktail of drugs already flowing through his veins made that almost impossible. </p><p>He was supposed to forget. His name, whatever identity he'd managed to scavenge, was going to be bled away, like it was that easy; plucking his name from his thoughts like fucking Pick 'N Mix. What was unnerving though, was Jughead really was beginning to lose pieces of himself, though there was nothing really to hold onto. All he wanted was his name. But Mr Jones had made it clear that everything was to be taken away. In order for his procedure to work, he had to forget. Maybe Jughead was imagining it, but perhaps the crazy bastard was right. His head spun, his body felt like it was floating, and when he bothered lifting his head, the blinding white light bathing the three of them constantly, made him feel sick to his stomach. A sharp prick in the back of his skull, that's all it had taken. And now, any identity he'd had, even as an orphan, was fading.</p><p>The only coherent thoughts he could come up with were: </p><p>
  <strong>1) He was freezing cold. The marble floor of their glass cage was hard to sleep on, no matter how much he squeezed into himself. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>2) Pain. He was in pain. No matter how much he was told he couldn't feel it. </strong>
</p><p>Mr Jones said he wouldn't feel pain. He said he was working on making Jughead's skin impenetrable. Bulletproof. Except looking at the flow of crimson flowing in red lines down his wrist, pooling on bland marble, the man's words sounded like a fantasy. The problem was, he did feel pain. He felt it like he never had before, cutting into his being like the knife Mr Jones used to slice open the skin of his hand. It won't hurt, the mad man had said, hissing in frustration when Jughead cried out, straining against the velcro straps binding his naked back to cold metal. When he tried to tell Mr Jones that he in fact was hurting, Jughead was ignored, told it was a phantom sensation, his brain telling him he could feel it, like phantom pain syndrome.  Mr Jones may constantly have him tied down like an animal, needles in his arms and strange contraptions resting on his head. But the man would never know what he felt. Jughead knew it was real. Knew he wasn't imagining it. He felt the sharp stinging sensation buzzing under his skin like a swarm of wasps, coaxed by the scalpel's blade cruelly slicing into his flesh. </p><p>Jughead had learned to keep quiet about the pain. Even if it hurt, even if the constant agony of Mr Jones cutting into old scars, cuts that had healed over time naturally, and not with whatever serum the crazy bastard claimed to be pumping into Jughead, made him want to give up. Because sometimes it did. Sometimes, Jughead prayed Mr Jones would pop an artery so he'd bleed out fully. Not just a little. Though the man always had skilful hands, his nicks and slashes too small to do proper damage, but deep enough to send Jughead's heart into his throat, his stomach twisting into knots. It wasn't supposed to be like that, though. Mr Jones said that Jughead would no longer be able to feel pain.</p><p>"A superhero," Mr Jones had excitedly gushed, when he'd kidnapped Jughead, along with Archie Andrews and Veronica Gomez.  "Boy, I'm going to turn you into a superhero."</p><p>Superhero. He would have laughed, but it only brought more pain.</p><p>Jughead didn't feel like a superhero. Superhero's didn't cry and scream until their throat was raw. They didn't beg to die, every day, as he had, slamming his hands into the glass wall and pleading with the man, to just let him go. Whether that being mercifully euthanized, or allowed to run, he didn't care. What he did care about was his damaged skin; crimson smears covering his hands and painting his arms like a canvas, gashes and slits in his flesh where Mr Jones had found new ways to hurt him, twisting the blade to test if Jughead truly could feel pain. </p><p>When his hands were too scarred, too damaged to play with, the man had moved onto the boy's chest, dragging the teeth of his scalpel down his torso and stomach, once again making small cuts here and there. Again, nothing of serious damage, but it was enough. It was enough to send Jughead writhing, lunging from the restraints with every peel of strength he had left. Jughead screamed. He screamed until his cries were being gagged by the man's clammy fingers, suffocating startled breaths constricting his chest. When he screamed louder, the man pressed harder until he couldn't breathe. Until he was forced to stop, thrashing like he was being electrocuted. "You don't feel pain, boy." Mr Jones had growled, telling him the hot tears slipping down his cheeks and salting his lips weren't real. The excruciating stabs burning him inside out. It wasn't real, Mr Jones hissed. </p><p>He was just acting like a child. </p><p>A superhero, Jughead thought again, sourly. Ignoring the dull stinging of the fresh cuts littering his body, he curled further into the foetal position, biting into his lower lip and forcing back a sob. </p><p>
  <em>Yeah right.</em>
</p><p> Fuck superhero's, if this is what he had to go through to become one. Fuck Spider-Man, and all of the mutants and caped vigilantes scrawled across the mass collection of comic books at St Mary's. They got their powers through a spider bite, or falling in a vat of toxic waste. Jughead had been turned into a lab rat, he was at the mercy of some crazy bastard with the delusion of creating supernatural abilities. Except it had been months, and all Jughead felt was pain. Every day. When Mr Jones asked him what he felt like, if he felt any changes, if the bloodied gashes in his hands had healed, he'd just spat at the glass like an animal, watching his own saliva drip down the pane in watery droplets.</p><p>Jughead didn't feel like a fucking superhero.</p><p>All he felt like was a kid who just wanted to go home. Even if "home" was St. Mary's. Once upon a time he had hated it there, hated that he was an orphan, hated everything about the place. Though now, he'd do just about anything to turn back time, just to get a sense of normalcy. St Mary's was a rattrap, sure; a dumping ground for kids who weren't wanted. But Jughead had a bedroom at the orphanage. He had his own bed, his own sheets and pillows and stuffed toys snatched from the toy box in the play room. There had been at least some comfort. Even limited, Jughead had his own clothes and shoes, and pyjamas. It wasn't home, but it was something close. Not home, and not family. But a safe place. Even when kids like Fangs and Sweet Pea burst into his room in the midnight hours, dragging him out of bed to play some elaborate game they'd made up, which almost always ended up with Jughead getting his head dunked in the shower spigot under ice cold water.</p><p>St. Mary's was as much as a home he'd ever get. </p><p>This place, though? Slowly unfurling himself from the huddled position, Jughead blinked up at the ceiling. This place was a prison. At the corner of his eye, the floor glistened with crimson. He'd bled everywhere again, but it wasn't the first time. Mr Jones expected it. Jughead had no sense of time inside the glass cage. It could be morning, afternoon or evening, he'd never know. His meals couldn't be called proper food, so the idea of breakfast, lunch and dinner dispersed. Jughead couldn't remember the last time he'd had proper food. Since his kidnapping and transformation into nothing but a rat in a cage, Jughead was only given "nutrition vitamins" which acted as a replacement for actual food. Initially, it had been like starvation. Just eating the vitamins and two glasses of water every day was draining him of energy, turning his mind to mush. But as the days dragged on, the vitamins became tolerable. They had no taste, only a strange acidic sickly tinge, when he placed one on his tongue. But just like Mr Jones had insisted, it was enough to keep him going. Even if they made Jughead feel less human every day. </p><p>He missed his bed. Blankets. Pillows. Jughead's thoughts were a whirlwind, part of him attempting to reach out for memories being cruelly pulled away, while the rest of him prayed slumber took over. It didn't, however. Of course it didn't. </p><p>"Jug?"</p><p>The familiar soft croak broke the silence, and Jughead had to press his face into the floor to muffle the sobs wracking his chest. It was no surprise to him that Archie's voice was getting progressively less coherent as the days went by, collapsing into a sharp hiss of breath he could sometimes push into actual voice, if the boy strained his throat. Archie was the only one out of the three of them who Mr Jones considered an initial failure. According to the crazy bastard himself, the boy had reacted badly to the serum which was supposed to grant them telepathy. Shockingly, none of them had yet to develop the ability to speak into each other's mind, but Archie had been Mr Jones's number one subject in bringing the ability to life. He'd severed the boy's vocal chords, limiting Archie's speech to a barely coherent gasp of breath, and was yet to be finished. Mr Jones said he was going to take Archie's voice completely so the boy could "blossom" into the perfect telepath. "You don't need your voice." The mad-man had told Archie, when it became obvious he wasn't developing telepathy, but was losing his voice. Jughead had listened to Archie scream until he had no voice to scream with, no voice to cry with, while gloved fingers pierced his throat when he was still wide awake. </p><p>"It's not working." Mr Jones had been manic, cutting deeper and deeper into Archie's throat, with the delusional thought that removing the voice all together, would ignite it to life inside Archie's head. But...of course that didn't happen. Archie stopped crying out for his dad, for Jughead and Veronica, and went deadly silent. It wasn't until Mr Jones was shoving the boy back behind the glass, did Jughead realise the redhead had lost the ability to scream completely. His eyes had been red raw, a hollow glassiness to them that terrified Jughead. Tears trickled down his cheeks, and yet all that came out of his mouth was a soft whimper. There were bandages spotted crimson, wrapped around his neck. </p><p>When he could, Jughead stopped paying attention to the boy. Because it hurt. Seeing a vibrant kid with a permanent grin reduced to a shell of himself, a hollow eyed ghost who spent most of their free time behind the walls of glass, curled into a ball, sleeping. Sometimes, Veronica crawled over to him, attempting to hug or reassure him. But Archie had grown cold, pulling away from her. When she forcefully wrapped her arms around him, he didn't cry. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head rapidly, crimson curls dancing in his eyes. Get off me, Archie's eyes screamed. Get off me. Don't touch me. </p><p>Eventually, the girl had gotten the hint, only hugging the redhead when he initiated it, or the three of them needed each other.</p><p>Though now the boy was speaking to Jughead, and it was enough to drag him from the towering cliffs in his mind, teetering on the edge before a stormy ocean. </p><p>"What?" His reply was soft, muffled into his arms. It was hard to hide the fact that it fucking hurt-- what Mr Jones had done to Archie. Every time the boy spoke, Jughead might as well have been strapped to the operating table in Mr Jones's lab. Hearing Archie speak, struggling to gasp words out, felt like the blade of the needle piercing his back.</p><p>No matter how much Jughead tried to suppress the thought, Archie was the reason why he was here. Why Veronica was here. Trapped in a mad scientist's laboratory behind the confines of a glass cage. According to Mr Jones, Archie was special, a test tube baby, created through IVF. Fred Andrews, Archie's father, was Mr Jones's old partner, the two of them so-called brilliant scientists aiming to create the perfect child using Fred's donated DNA. But Fred had grown attached to the baby, insisting that what they were doing was cruel. That whatever Mr Jones had in store for the child, was going against human nature. Judging from what Mr Jones had already put them through, Jughead knew Fred was right to run. He had taken the test tube baby, hiding him away for fourteen years.</p><p>And that kid had of course become Archie Fucking Andrews. The freshman jock with the squeaky voice who didn't belong in a Letterman jacket. But also...kind of did. </p><p>Mr Jones had found him, and Jughead had just so happened to be unlucky enough to accept the boy's party invitation, climbing inside the car of a mad scientist. </p><p>"Are you awake?" Archie's voice was a whisper now, forced from his lips. Jughead knew the boy wasn't going to let go of his voice that easily. </p><p>"No, I'm talking in my sleep." he snapped back sarcastically. After a beat of silence, he rolled onto his side so he was facing Archie, who had stretched out, laying on his side, knees curled into his chest. The boy looked washed out as usual, pallid skin and red curls a freakish contrast. Archie had gotten skinnier, though that was to be expected; the usual white nylon shorts and t-shirt were practically glued to the boys flesh. Veronica was asleep. Her soft snores were enough to lull Jughead to slumber, though the girl scared him these days. Whatever Mr Jones was doing to her terrified him. </p><p>If he was supposed to be bulletproof, and Archie telepathic, both of them showing no signs of their ability, then what about Veronica? </p><p>The scary thing was...Veronica was the reason why fragments of Jughead started to believe Mr Jones and his experiments were real. </p><p>Her scream, he thought, shivering when even the ghost of it pierced his memory. </p><p>Veronica's scream made his ears bleed. It shook the whole room, shattering everything in her vicinity. </p><p>Don't think about that right now, Jughead thought. He had to cling onto his name. His memories. Focusing on the fresh bandage on Archie's neck, he willed himself to relax.</p><p>The two of them stared at each other for a moment, with Jughead torn on what to say. Part of him wanted to blame Archie for all of this. But from the sunken look in the boy's mocha brown eyes, Jughead knew Archie blamed himself. He blamed everything that had happened to them on one measly party invitation. For a moment, Jughead considered turning back around and burying his head in his arms once again, but he was quickly reminded of the vicious monster in his brain, plucking away his memories; memories of St. Mary's, the times he'd sat under the bleachers under the warm Summer sun and deluged himself in the world of Pokemon...and of course Archie and Veronica. Even if they were now bound together by a matter of circumstance, Jughead still wanted to cling onto them. </p><p>So, he took himself back, imagining he was on the football field again, the DS in his lap, the screen still paused on a gym battle. The feeling of freshly cut grass rubbing the backs of his jeans, the stink of sickly summer engulfing his nose. The memory was fading, but it was there, still reachable. Archie was standing in front of him, bathed in warm golden sunlight igniting the blue and gold of his Letterman jacket. </p><p>He was smiling. Jughead painted the boy's smile in his head, suppressing the real Archie. The one who was falling apart in front of him. No, Jughead thought, dizzily.</p><p>Archie had that stupid, dumb smile. </p><p>Which made him think for a moment. Pushing through the thick fog beginning to envelope his mind, he cleared his throat. "Archie, can I ask you something?"</p><p>"Sure." Archie replied in a soft breath, "ask me anything, bro."</p><p>Nodding, Jughead hummed. "Why did you really invite me to your party?"</p><p>The boy raised a brow. It was the most 'Archie' he'd ever seen him in a while, and it was a breath of fresh air. Jughead expected him to roll his eyes and turn away, hissing with the voice he had left, that they had more things to worry about than Jughead's paranoia. Except he didn't. "This again?" Archie's lip curved into what might have been a smile, and he sighed. "I told you," Archie sounded like he was pushing down on his voice, straining it to the point of croaking. "I invited you because you seemed like a nice guy, and you were like, the only kid in our freshman class who liked Pokemon."</p><p>Liked. Archie's use of the past tense was like a wave of ice water. Jughead shook away the thought, grimacing. "Yeah, but.." he shrugged, "You've never spoken to me, Archie." Jughead frowned at the boy. "Like, ever. And we've known each other since kindergarten."</p><p>Archie held his gaze for a moment, before letting out a sigh and rolling onto his back, brown eyes skimming the ceiling. "Why does it bother you so much?"</p><p>The words were coming out before he could stop them, "because I'm a loser, and you're one of the most popular guys in the freshman class." Jughead rolled his eyes. "Sorry for being sceptical, but you could have invited anyone else."</p><p>Before Archie could answer, Jughead continued; "And don't give me that bullshit that I'm the only one who plays Pokemon. Dude, Moose Mason and Dilton Doiley play it all the time, and even made a goddamn club."</p><p>His words were harsh, but hanging onto the memory, as well as the thoughts that had plagued his mind during Archie's invitation, actually helped. Jughead was able to delve deeper into it, grasping hold of each particle, refusing to let go.</p><p>"Wow." Archie surprised him with a soft noise, which was maybe a laugh. The redhead's gaze remained on the ceiling, and he blew strands of straying red from his eyes. Jughead couldn't help notice there was a sad smile prickling on the boy's lips. "You saw right through my bullshit." He chuckled, but it was more of an ironic cackle. </p><p>Something twisted inside Jughead's gut. Despite their situation, despite everything they had been through, prickles of embarrassment rocketed up his spine. "So why did you invite me then?" he asked casually, though his voice was shaking. "Did Reggie Mantle dare you?"</p><p>Archie frowned, lip curling. His gaze didn't move from the ceiling. He folded his arms across his chest. "Even now, you still refuse to believe I genuinely wanted you to come."</p><p>"You just said I saw through your elaborate scheme, Andrews." Jughead rolled his eyes, huffing out a breath. "It doesn't matter now, anyway. Since your evil uncle is dead set on turning us into Marvel rejects." a surprising rush of anger flooded through him, word vomit slipping from his mouth, "just tell me Reggie Fucking Mantle wasn't involved."</p><p>"Reggie?" Archie's voice got a little stronger, almost a proper tone. His gaze flickered over to Jughead, but his smile was teasing, playful, like he enjoyed getting on Jughead's nerves. "And why would Reggie be involved in my scheme to get you to come to my party?"</p><p>Jughead ignored the boy's smirk. "I said I don't care anymore. You invited me, and I was stupid enough to accept."</p><p>A beat of silence, filtered by Veronica's soft murmurs in her sleep. The girl was curled up, a halo of dark curls hiding her face. </p><p>"I liked you, Jughead."</p><p>It took several seconds for Jughead to register the boy's words, or more like, the rush of breath which were almost words, before he shrugged, letting out a scoff. "I liked you too, dude." he turned his head to scowl at the redhead. "Even if you forced me to come to your stupid party, which was probably some kind of plan to make a fool-"</p><p>"No, <em>liked</em>, liked you." Archie said, which choked the rest of Jughead's words. He felt his cheeks heat up, his stomach volleying into his throat.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Archie smiled. A real smile, like the old him. There was a glow to his expression that wasn't there before, a glitter in his eyes. "I liked you, Jug. That's why I invited you. I didn't know how to ask if you wanted to hang out, so I figured inviting you would be the best way. My dad told me to just go for it, so I did, I guess."</p><p>"But..." Jughead straightened up. "Wait, Veronica-"</p><p>The boy cut him off again, much to his irritation. "Was she in on it? Yeah. I asked her to help me out, and she said yes," Archie sighed. "The thing is, I don't know what I am. I don't know if I'm gay or bi, or straight. I've never liked a guy before, it's just you. I don't know why, Jug. I can't control my feelings, y'know? I always saw you hanging under the bleachers, and you'd just had this...smile. This sort of dreamy smile, like you could escape the world around you completely." Archie cleared his throat, raking his hand through tangles of his hair. "I dunno, you just seemed like a cool guy, and I wanted to get to know you. The party was more of a way to initiate some kind of friendship."</p><p>A scoff from behind them. Veronica. Jughead hadn't noticed she was awake. "It's not like he annoyed me into saying yes or anything," she giggled into her arms. "Of course not."</p><p>"Ignore her." Archie whispered, pulling a face.</p><p>"I won't speak a word," the girl hummed. "not even about the cake you insisted your father and I picked up, because you 'had a feeling' Jughead liked double choc frosting."</p><p>Archie's cheeks had turned as red as his hair. He sat up properly to glare at the girl, and it almost felt right. Like they were normal teenagers again, arguing back and forth about nothing in particular. Jughead let the boy's words wash over him, at first denying them. No. There was no way Archie liked him...like that. He'd never had anyone like him. There was nothing to like. His heart started to pound, and Jughead found himself revelling in the feeling. It felt so human; lying there and talking to the others about something as normal as feelings. He chewed his lip, his gaze stuck to the redhead, whose eyes were wide. "I..uh, Jug, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lay that on you like that."</p><p>"Archie." He managed to get out.</p><p>"It was a crush, Jug."</p><p>"No, I..." Jughead choked on the words. "Archie, I'm, uh.."</p><p>"I get it." Archie finished for him, another exhale of breath which was supposed to be a laugh. More needles. This time they stuck into Jughead's chest, perforating his lungs. Archie's voice was getting worse, and there was nothing they could do to stop it. Not in the company of a mad man. "You don't play for the same team, and I'm cool with that," his lips formed a smile. "Though you did ask me why I invited you, so I told you honestly."</p><p>Jughead found himself smiling faintly. "That's very true. I did practically force you to tell me." he shrugged, eyeing the boy. "You're right, I do, uh...play for the other team, as you put it. But hey, if your psycho uncle doesn't kill us, I'd love to be friends."</p><p>Archie nodded. "I'd really like that, Jug." he said, in a soft whisper. </p><p>Jughead bit his lip. "Thanks for y'know...telling me."</p><p>Another chuckle. "Trust me, telling you about a little crush is nothing compared to what's happening to us right now. Otherwise, I would have probably chickened out."</p><p>"Hey, just so you know, I do like chocolate fudge cake."</p><p>"Knew it." He let out another sharp exhalation of breath.</p><p>They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, with Jughead realising that for the first time in his life, he actually had friends.</p><p>
  <em>Friends.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In the worst situation he had ever been in.</em>
</p><p>"Hey, Jug?" Archie turned to Ronnie too. "Veronica?"</p><p>The girl hummed softly. "Yes, Arch?"</p><p>Jughead found himself echoing her words. </p><p>The boy looked torn for a moment, whether he wanted to speak or not. "We're not really going to forget our names, right? Or...or each other."</p><p>Yes, Jughead wanted to say. Because he could still feel it, the tumour eating everything in its path, leaving no memory no mercy. He couldn't bring himself to tell Archie the truth, so instead he forced himself to laugh, "like I'd ever forget you two."</p><p>Veronica laughed too. "We made quite the impression, Arch."</p><p>The redhead nodded with a relieved grin, and for the briefest of moments everything seemed right again. If Jughead forgot about the glass walls, told himself they weren't real, the thrumming pain in the back of his head seemed to dull, and he could pretend that everything was okay. He and Archie and Veronica were going to be okay. </p><p>Until the door to the lab flew open, crashing against the wall, sending Veronica diving to her feet, a soft squeak escaping her lips. Jughead was on his feet too, he didn't know why. It was an instinct running through him, almost animalistic. Archie was much slower, but his eyes had darkened, the lazy smile previously curved on his lips was gone. The redhead staggered back, automatically taking Veronica into his arms protectively. </p><p>Mr Jones. He'd staggered in, cursing to himself. He was holding something, though Jughead could only see the man's figure at an angle. Jughead was taking steps towards the glass, heart pounding. He was grisly reminded of his diminishing memories, and when he pressed his hands onto the glass pane, his bloody wrists and palms were out in the open. The blood had mostly dried up, but crimson smears still decorated the surface.</p><p>Jughead wanted to hide them, but Veronica and Archie knew exactly what had been done to him. Instead of burrowing back into himself, Jughead fixated his attention on the man. </p><p>Veronica's eyes were glued to Mr Jones, her eyes wide, bottom lip trembling. Archie left the girl for a moment, joining Jughead's side.</p><p>Mr Jones stumbled further into the lab, and Jughead glimpsed a flurry of blonde curls. Archie let out a sharp breath, and the closer the man got, Jughead realised what, or who, he was carrying bridal style. The girl was limp hanging in is arms, a tangled mess of limbs. She wore a powder pink hoodie and pastel coloured jeans, her hair pulled back by a headband. He knew who she was the second her features bled through the blinding light; eyes shut peacefully, lips parted slightly. Jughead knew her face. He knew her sunshine blonde hair that was always tied into a ponytail, dazzling blue eyes that followed him across the hallway at school. A slither of ice crept up his spine. Archie slammed his hands into the glass, his expression frenzied. Until that moment, neither of them had known of a fourth victim. "Oh god," he whispered furiously, "what did you do to her?!"</p><p>Mr Jones dropped the girl from his arms abruptly, and she landed in a bundle of soft pink. Jughead glimpsed a streak of red trickling from her ear. It hit Jughead then, that the girl wasn't breathing. There was no movement. She just lay there, an explosion of golden curls on bland marble tiles. Dead. Jughead sent a panicked glance to the redhead, whose teeth were gritted, his hands pressed on the glass curling into fists.</p><p>"That is none of your concern." Mr Jones said. His expression was nonchalant. He didn't care. Jughead swallowed bile. The girl was dead, and she was nothing to him. </p><p>Veronica let out a sharp cry. "She's dead! You...oh god, you killed her!"</p><p>Scoffing, Mr Jones stepped over the girl, disregarding her. Jughead couldn't tear his gaze from her. He knew her sweet smile, her laugh that lit up every room she was in. </p><p>"Children." Mr Jones stood in front of the glass, frowning at them. "Due to...complications," he made a face. "I'll be fast tracking the process." he settled them with inquisitive eyes. "Give me your names, please. Your conversion into prototypes, and then soldiers must go smoothly. I have buyers that are interested, and the procedure is far more tolerable when the brain is empty. It will be far easier to start the remodelling. I'd also like to test something on Freddie's boy," he shot a look at the bundle of blonde on the floor, "of course, since Prototype Four ultimately failed." </p><p>The man's words were like bolts of lightning, hitting Jughead one by one. Mr Jones was talking like they were...products to be sold. He felt his legs weaken. That's what  he was going to become. Mr Jones's words chilled him to the bone. A hysterical cry grew at the back of his throat, but he refused to give the bastard the satisfaction. </p><p>"Soldiers?" Archie's voice was a sharp breath. The fact that he barely had a voice failed to hide the fear in his tone. The boy's eyes were wide, lips twisted into a scowl. He kept stealing glances, staring at the dead blonde. Jughead figured he didn't have enough tone left to demand what the man's plans for him were. "What are you talking about?" </p><p>Mr Jones chuckled. "Oh, sweet Archie, you have Freddie's naivety." he settled the  redhead with a patronising smile, "did you really think I was turning you into a superhero for your benefit? My dear boy, of course not! You're the first of your kind, I have clients lined up to see what will come of the four of you."</p><p>"Four?" Jughead repeated, though his voice was barely penetrating the sound barrier.</p><p>Mr Jones made a sick kind of sense. Of course he was building them for someone. None of them spoke, and at first, Jughead was afraid they really had forgotten their names. But then Veronica was walking over, pressing her face against the glass. "Gomez." she said softly. "My name is Veronica Gomez, and always WILL be Gomez, you fucking psycho."</p><p>"Mmmm," Mr Jones nodded at Jughead. "And how about you?" his smile was mocking. "Not much to let go of, boy. It's not like you have a family to go back to."</p><p>Jughead had to bite his lip to suppress a retort, that definitely would have gotten him punished. The words stung, but he steeled himself. "Jughead." he choked out, "my name is Jughead."</p><p>The man's eyes darkened. "I see." He rubbed his chin. "The Swipe doesn't seem to be working as it should." his eyes flittered to Archie, and he strode towards the glass, lips forming a cruel smile. "Andrews." he murmured. "Let's start with you, shall we?"</p><p>"Go to hell." the boy hissed. </p><p>Mr Jones inclined his head. "You never were an Andrews, you little brat. Freddie took you from my lab. You were supposed to be a celebration of our alliance. An Andrews-Jones."</p><p>"My dad," Archie choked out, "what did you do to my dad?" his gaze once again fell on the dead blonde. "And the Cooper girl. Tell me what you did to her."</p><p>"He's dead." Mr Jones replied cooley. "I killed your father, and the fourth prototype as of right now is a failure," he said simply, "is that enough to break you down, boy?"</p><p>A failure. Jughead's heart ached for the girl; for all her could have been's. Graduation, marriage and travelling the world. Her own children. </p><p>Gone. </p><p>Though as much as he wanted to mourn the blonde, the mad man's words enveloped him. </p><p>Prototype. That's what he'd called her. </p><p>Just a prototype. </p><p>Jughead forced himself to say calm, to keep nonchalant, but the thoughts were like a wave, hitting him like a nuclear blast. Is that how he was going to end up?</p><p>He imagined himself sprawled on the floor, bleeding from the ears, like the blonde. </p><p>Dead. Failed. </p><p>"No." Archie's cry which sputtered through the gutter of his throat was no use. Tears sparkled in his eyes. "You're lying!" The boy stumbled back, reaching out for Jughead, flailing arms desperate for something to hold onto, an anchor. But like a serpent with its prey, Mr Jones was unlocking the glass door, stepping in and grabbing the boy harshly, yanking him back out. Move. Jughead told himself, his feet glued to the floor. Archie was crying for his father, crying for the blonde. Move! Jughead screamed at himself. But he was paralysed, watching the jock having no choice but to stumble after the mad-man, falling over his feet. His eyes were wide with fright, childlike panic.</p><p>Which was like a kick in the gut. They were fourteen, Jughead thought, his gaze stuck to Mr Jones, pulling Archie like a rag-doll. They were just kids.</p><p>Help, Archie's eyes screamed. But Jughead knew he couldn't say the words. The redhead had said it himself. Words only came when he forced them to. </p><p>Please help, his expression was wild. Jughead waited for the boy to cry out his name, except no sound came out. Of course it didn't. The boy's voice was fading further away as the hours went by. Archie's earlier words came back to haunt him, creeping into his skull. "We're not really going to forget our names, right? Or...or each other."</p><p>No. Jughead gritted his teeth, once again laying his palms on the glass. No, he wasn't going to forget his name. He wasn't going to forget Archie or Veronica, or...</p><p>His heart stampeded in his chest, threatening to burst from his rib cage.</p><p>Or the blonde. The sweet Cooper girl. </p><p>He would never forget her.</p><p>"Hey!" He yelled, a new sensation beginning to ignite inside his veins. The second time his hands came down, slamming into the glass, he caught a flash of something. A trick of the light, he told himself. Another sharp hit. "Let him go! Get your hands off him!"</p><p>He was about to pound the glass again, screaming until his throat was raw. But then Jughead did see something; this time in his warped reflection in the glass. He saw a boy he barely recognised, a skinny kid with dark hair and pallid skin, clothes hanging off his thin frame. Though looking closer... slowly, Jughead moved closer to the glass, peering at himself. At first he thought he was imagining things, but he saw it. A single flash of cerulean light sparking in his pupils. Jughead blinked, staggering back. </p><p>The foreign feeling inside of him grew more intense, like a snake was wrapping itself around his spine, waves of venom striking through his blood. </p><p>Another flash. This time from in front of him. Dazedly, he stared down at his hands, which to his shock were healed, and in the process of healing. His skin was knitting itself back together, brand new flesh growing across the scarred and damage. For a moment, however, his gaze wasn't on his healed hands. It was on the bursts of blue light writhing up and down his fingertips, rivulets streaming across his olive hands like sparks of lightning. "Veronica." He started to say, twisting around to meet her eyes. </p><p>The girl's expression was already twisted with horror, green eyes wide, prickles of pain creasing her forehead. She wasn't looking at him, though, her gaze settled on thin air, delving into oblivion. At first, Jughead didn't know what the girl was reacting to, why her lips were beginning to tremble, an inevitable screech bubbling up her throat. </p><p>And then he felt it; the sense of gloved fingers creeping across the back of his head. Reaching to stroke the curve of his skull, Jughead shivered. There was nothing there, and yet...he could feel it. Fingers gripping his hair into a fist and yanking at it. </p><p>Veronica's shaking hand came up, her hand grazing the back of her head, and then it hit him, just as the girl let out a wail that slammed into him like a physical wave, nearly sending him to his knees. Archie and Veronica, Jughead thought dizzily. He could feel them, he could feel the explosions rattling inside Veronica's throat, and Mr Jones's gloved hands stroking the back of Archie's head, the sharp prick of a needle. </p><p>Everything they could feel, he felt it too. </p><p>Losing his breath, Jughead stared down at his hands still prickling with intense cyan. Maybe it was Veronica's influence, her screech still ringing in his head, the force of it pushing at his own throat. Jughead dropped to his knees, pressing trembling hands to his face, and when the first crackles of static whispers crawled into the back of his head, he ignored them. He ignored the panicked voice beginning to weave its way into his skull.</p><p>And just like Veronica, Jughead started to scream. </p>
<hr/><p>
  <span class="u">sneak peek for the next bit. </span>
</p><p>"Take us?" J let out a frightened breath, and Betty steeled a breath. "Let me go, and I promise I'll get you out of here," Betty whispered. J had seemingly lost his fire, his wicked grip slowly loosening. "Please," she pleaded. "Just let me help you, J."</p><p>"That's not my name," he hissed back, "I.. I don't know my name."</p><p>"We'll find it," Betty coaxed the boy with her voice. "Together, okay? We'll find out your names, but right now we've got to get out of here."</p><p>
  <em>She's right, dude. </em>
</p><p>A murmured his affirmation, and J jolted like he'd been stung, his grip slipping from around Betty's throat. He let her go gently, her bare feet landing on the stage. The boy stiffened up, his mouth opening and closing, but no words came out. Hiram Lodge's words were still slamming into Betty, but she caught hold of herself. Before J could freak out, and she could see it on his face, Betty grabbed the boy's hand, well aware that he could kill her if he really wanted to, and he nearly had. She squeezed it as tight as she could, expecting him to let go. But he held on, securing his fingers around hers.</p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! this chapter hurt to write lol. Leave kudos, and comment to let me know you're still reading, as well as any thoughts/constructive criticism! Who's the 4th rat? ;) </p><p>Making Archie gay/bi gives me a lot of opportunities for future characters I'm bringing in, and my god, jug and Archie remind me of Alec and Jace so much, so I definitely based Archie's one-sided crush on the two of them &lt;3  This story, apart from the main ship (bughead) is focused on a more sibling tone with the rats. Jughead is an exception with Betty ;) </p><p> Would you guys prefer the rats staying as the three of them, or more Riverdale teens being thrown into the mess? Let me know! :')</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Fourth Rat.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The 4th rat is revealed.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is late, im so sorry! djkfjdkjfkjf</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>Polly.</p><p>Hiram Lodge's words came over Betty like a tidal wave, and she stiffened, losing all her bravado. Her sister's name was already sensitive, but hearing it spoken out loud by a man ready to buy three genetically enhanced kids, turned into soldiers by her step-father, made her stomach volley into her throat. The laptop nearly slipped from her hands from the intensity of the man's stare, the greedy smile puckering on his lips.</p><p>She took a slow step forwards, her gaze flicking to FP, whose expression had darkened significantly. Dad? She wanted to say, like a child, truly breaking apart. Betty wanted to ask him to explain himself, words tangled on her tongue. She wanted to ask him why her memories felt foggy and wrong, why a cavern had opened up where memories of her sister had been. Polly. Polly died in a fire, she told herself. That's what her mother had told her. That's what she had seen...for herself. Despite her insistence however, a small voice was emerging at the back of her head. Her own voice, crying out for her to listen.</p><p>Polly died in a fire, Betty told herself again. She saw it happen, and yet there were no ruminations in her mind. Her eyes stung, writhing ice rocketing up and down her spine. She reached out for her last memory of her sister, the last time they were together. Except there was nothing to reach out for, the cavern in her mind spreading, eating everything in its path. Before Betty could speak, before she could even begin to question FP how Hiram Lodge could possibly know her sister, Betty felt a steely pair of arms twine themselves around her neck, locking her into a choke hold. Something snapped inside her, fight or flight, the impulse to fight back. Before she could, however, she found herself being dragged back, cool hands leaching around her throat. The laptop crashed to the floor, though FP didn't seem fazed.</p><p>The program. Of course he'd have multiple copies of it.</p><p>Betty opened her mouth to cry out, but the feeling of ice cold lips resting on the shell of her ear choked the scream ready to let rip. "Don't fucking move." his voice, an animalistic snarl sent pangs in her chest, and she struggled to speak. J. She felt the thrum of energy pulsing up and down his fingertips, buzzing between them, the same hypnotising light that lit up his iris. He pressed just enough pressure to block her windpipe, setting her heart into a frenzy, her stomach twisting.</p><p>Her body squirmed under his crushing hold, but she forced herself to stay calm, to not fight back. Betty's bare feet began to lift from the stage when he changed his stance, closing his elbows around her throat, locking her in a strangling grip which ripped the remaining air from her lungs.</p><p>Suffocating, Betty thought hysterically. She was suffocating, and he wasn't going to let up. He wasn't going to listen to her, because in his eyes, she was the enemy. He was the rat, and she was one of many who had come to see him.</p><p>"So you're Mr Jones's darling daughter?" J hissed out, hot breath tickling her ear. She couldn't resist a squeak, arching herself away from him, gasping for air. But he only crushed her further. "Nice of you to dress up all fancy for his little ceremony."</p><p>Letting out a sharp exhale, Betty fought for air. "It's not like that!" she puffed out, but he was quick to cut her off, tightening his grip.</p><p>I don't want to know. I just want to get myself and my family out of here. So if you speak, Princess? I swear to god, I'll snap your neck right in front of daddy Jones and his friends. Now wouldn't that be a spectacle, huh? Instead of parading us around like fucking dolls, Mr Jones gets to watch me disembowel his step daughter."</p><p><em>J,</em> A muttered. <em>Be nice.</em></p><p>He scoffed. "Answer me, Princess. Do you understand?" the energy illuminating his hands seemed to brighten and intensify with his anger.</p><p>Betty had no other option. "Yes." she managed to choke out, resisting the urge to insist they weren't her family. He responded by digging his fingernails into her skin, and Betty had to bite back a screech. The pain was like nothing she'd ever felt before, a sharp sting feeling like needles perforating her flesh. She didn't struggle. There was no doubt in her mind that J wouldn't kill her to get himself and his siblings out of her father's trap.</p><p><em>Hey.</em> A's voice was a relief, a soft murmur in the back of her head. From the way J jolted, letting out a sharp hiss, he heard it too.</p><p>
  <em>Calm down. Betty clearly isn't siding with Mr Jones right now. Let her go.</em>
</p><p>"This is our one chance to get out of here!" J hissed back, twisting to the redhead. In his panic, he squeezed tighter, his fingernails protruding into the flesh of Betty's throat. Black spots danced in her vision, and she felt herself sway, still suspended in the air by the boy's impossible grip. J's voice was shaking. He was scared, Betty thought. J was an cornered animal, and she just so happened to be the perfect bargaining chip. Looking down, Betty saw his hands writhing with that captivating light.</p><p><em>I know it is,</em> A replied. <em>But you're going about it the wrong way, man.</em></p><p>Instead of listening to his brother, J faced the crowd. Though she could tell from his twitching expression, the conversation was still going on through the telepathic connection linking them. Betty glimpsed her mother and Fred Andrews staring back at her, vacant smiles and unblinking eyes. Her heart ached for her mom.</p><p>FP was scowling, though Hiram and Hermione just looked amused. They were eyeing J as if he was some kind of circus attraction. A took advantage of the distraction, pulling V to shaky feet, snaking a protective arm around the girl's shoulders.</p><p><em>It's okay,</em> he murmured to the girl, who was sobbing.</p><p>
  <em>You're okay, V. Go to your happy place, okay? Don't hurt these people.</em>
</p><p>Why not? Betty felt like asking. Why shouldn't the girl unleash her screech on the Riverdale's elite, who wanted her as nothing more but a mindless soldier?</p><p><em>Oh, trust me,</em> A's voice seeped into her skull. <em>Make no mistake, we're killing them. Every last one of them. His voice wavered. But right now, we're outnumbered. We're weak, and we can't use our abilities. Otherwise, my brother and sister would have raised hell.</em></p><p>Betty glimpsed the boy at the corner of her eye; warm browns expanding with cerulean light. He was glaring at his brother. <em>Let her go, J. You're making it worse.</em></p><p>The raven head ignored him. Instead, he focused his attention on FP.</p><p>"Here's what's going to happen, old man," J snarled. His warm breath tickled the back of Betty's neck. She forced herself to stay calm, only taking laboured breaths when she needed to. Struggling would freak him out even more, and she didn't need that. She willed herself to relax in his embrace. "You're going to let us go, or I'm going to rip out your daughters insides right in front of your friends."</p><p><em>He doesn't mean it,</em> A said quickly, his voice echoing in the back of Betty's skull. The boy stood among the sea of black and white, a burst of colour in the room.</p><p>
  <em>J, please. you're hurting her.</em>
</p><p>The raven boy hissed out a breath.</p><p>"So you're just going to stand there and let this asshole turn us into mindless freaks, huh? You have an ability, idiot. Why aren't you using it?!"</p><p><em>Because</em>, A snapped back, his voice buzzing in her skull. <em>Like I've said multiple times, we're weak. If I tried to possess someone, I'd probably get stuck.</em></p><p>J staggered back, dragging Betty with him. "Well try harder!"</p><p>"Stop this," FP finally snapped, his gaze glued to J. "Stand down, Prototype Two. I created you to follow instructions. Now get your hands off of my daughter, young man, and get back in line."</p><p>J laughed. An actual laugh, his whole body trembling with the force of it. "Oh, I'm a 'young man' to you now, Mr Jones?" He spat, fortifying his hold. "Was I a 'young man' when you took my identity away and turned me into a fucking lab rat?" the boy choked out a sob. "You took my name. My family. Everything I've ever known."</p><p>A family, Betty thought, her blood turning to ice. J didn't know he was an orphan. He didn't know he had no family, except his fellow rats standing next to him. Swallowing the craving to scream at her father further, Betty squeezed her eyes shut when his fingernails pierced her flesh, drawing blood. J was shaking, his head movements erratic. "All I've ever known is your basement, and I know I had a life. I had something!" J was stammering now, struggling through sobs. He managed to steel himself with a sharp breath. "So." He held Betty like a prize. "Let us go, or I'll turn your daughter inside out."</p><p>Betty watched her step father's cheeks darken, turning a shade of crimson she didn't even know existed. "My apologies," he told the crowd with a nervous laugh. "It seems the program is faulty. The Prototypes have never acted like this before."</p><p>A soft murmur from the crowd, who looked more intrigued than horrified.</p><p>J sputtered again. "The program?" the raven-head spat. "I'm sorry, are we not acting in line? Are we being too human?" He jerked his head in A's direction. "You took his voice! And..I don't even know who he is! I don't know who he was to me before you drained me of my memories, and I have no choice but to call him my brother, because all we had was each other," he snarled. "And I'm telling you, Mr Jones, if you hadn't ripped out his vocal chords, he'd be screaming at you too. Because what you've done to us is inhuman."</p><p>Nodding, V pulled away from A, keeping hold of the boy's hand. Her eyes were steely, glistening with tears.</p><p>"You are a mentally disturbed child." FP growled at J. "All three of you were built to be sold, now shut your mouth and release my daughter."</p><p>"Built to be sold." J snapped back. "You said it, not me."</p><p>"I won't ask you again, Prototype Two."</p><p>J pulled Betty backwards. "Let us go, and I might just do that, asshole."</p><p>FP's jaw clenched. He turned to Hiram and Hermione. "I'm so sorry about this, the program is supposed to keep them fully in line. They are not normally like this. I plan on removing all emotion during the final stages. Like I said, Hiram, they're not finished-"</p><p>Mr Lodge surprised Betty with a laugh. "Oh, no, it's fine!" the man's lips stretched into a grin. "They're extraordinary, Jones," his eyes were lit up with unkempt glee. "I've changed my mind," he announced. "Give me the prototypes tonight, along with Fred Andrews, who can of course complete your finishing touches. My associates will wire you the cash as soon as you make the exchange." Hiram turned to Hermione who nodded eagerly.</p><p>Lips curving into a devilish smile, the woman cocked a perfectly drawn brow. "FP, it would be a pleasure to take them off your hands."</p><p>FP looked sceptical. "So soon?" he hummed. "Mrs Lodge, with all due respect, they are barely soldiers."</p><p>"Hmm." Hermione said, "Like my husband said, Fred Andrews can finish the remodelling. And as Hiram just so delicately put, the cash will be wired as soon as your little projects our in our hands."</p><p>No. Betty felt J stiffen, the breath leave his lungs.</p><p>"Done." FP said, after a beat. "Mr and Mrs Lodge, I believe we have a deal." he shook both of their hands. "When exactly would you like to take them?"</p><p>"Take us?" J let out a frightened breath, and Betty found her voice.</p><p>"Let me go, and I promise I'll get you out of here," Betty whispered to the boy, attempting to squirm from his hold. J had seemingly lost his fire, his wicked grip slowly loosening. "Please," she pleaded. "Just let me help you, J. I won't let them do this to you."</p><p>"You're lying," he croaked. "You're on..you're on his side."</p><p>Slowly, Betty brought up her arms to wrap around his, in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. "I'm the only person you can trust right now, J. Just give me a chance."</p><p>"That's not my name!" he hissed back, "I.. I don't know my name."</p><p>"We'll find it," Betty coaxed the boy with her voice, straightening up. "Together, okay? We'll find out your names, but right now we've got to get out of here."</p><p>She's right, dude. A murmured, his voice a welcome distraction from the crowd, and her parents. And hey, if she's fucking us around, we just kill her, alright?</p><p>"Right." J said shakily. Betty tried not to think about A's words. He was in her head, he knew what she was thinking. Would they really kill her if she sided with her father?</p><p><em>Yes</em>. A answered dully. <em>Of course we would.</em> His voice hissed with static, and she winced. I<em>n case you haven't noticed, we're being auctioned off to Riverdale's rich and famous. J, let Betty go. She wants to help us, and it's our only chance to get out of here."</em></p><p>A's voice was soothing, a wave of warm water brushing against her skull.</p><p>Slowly, J listened to the redhead. His grip slipped from Betty's throat, and he let her go gently, setting her back on the stage. Before J could freak out, and she could see it on his face, Betty grabbed the boy's hand, well aware that he could kill her if he really wanted to, and he nearly had. She squeezed it as tight as she could, expecting him to let go. But he held on, securing his fingers around hers in a desperate attempt to cling to an anchor.</p><p>"Dad." Betty felt pathetic, calling out to her parents who had no problem turning kids into mindless machines. She grasped J's hand tighter. "you're not doing this."</p><p>FP inclined his head. "Sweetie, I just made the deal," he said. "Now, stop embarrassing me, be a good girl and get away from my prototypes. They took a long time to perfect, and are incredibly valuable, Elizabeth." he gestured to Hiram and Hermione, who had twin looks of triumph on their faces. "as you can see, I've found them a new home."</p><p>Betty snorted. "You can't justify this!" she squeaked.</p><p>J's sweaty hand slipped from her fingers, before grabbing hold of her upper arm, squeezing so tightly, Betty had to bite her lip to suppress a cry. But he didn't speak. He didn't dare. Not in front of his so-called creators, who no longer saw them as humans. Behind her, A and V clutched each other, the two of them paralysed to the spot.</p><p>Hermione pouted. "Sweetie, your father wasn't expecting you to get so attached to the prototypes," another patronising smile. "I'm sure finding them inside the confines of his home must have been confusing, but I can assure you they are not normal children, and will serve myself and my husband. No harm will be done to them, baby. I promise."</p><p>Hiram grinned. "Exactly!" he said, cheerily. "We can't wait to take them in."</p><p>Bile creeped its way up Betty's throat. "They're kids!" she shot back at the witch, who didn't lose her smile.</p><p>Hermione cocked her head. "So? Do you think we want adult soldiers, sweetie pie?"</p><p>The woman's voice sent her thoughts into a tailspin. Whoever these people were, they couldn't get away with this. Wouldn't get away with this. Not if she had anything to say about it. Betty leaned further into J, reassuring him with her weight. He was still shaking, bright green eyes glued to the crowd. Standing in front of FP's gathering in a polka dot dress and clutching the hand of a lost boy who couldn't even make eye contact with her, Betty couldn't have felt any more helpless. Any more like a child.</p><p>Her gaze flicked to Kevin's father. Thomas Keller. He had always been nice to her, insisting on giving her cookies when she hung out with Kevin, and making sure he cooked her favourite meal when she stayed over to sleep. Anger burned inside her like an ignition of fire setting alight in her blood. Thomas Keller had stood by his own son, protecting him like a father should, and yet happily let three teenagers in his own town, three kids who had grown up right under his nose, get turned into the Lodge's playthings.</p><p>"Sheriff Keller, how can you be okay with this?!"</p><p>He didn't answer, his eyes steely and cold. Not like she remembered them.</p><p>"Because you're sick." she said softly, and then louder. "You're all sick, and I'm taking your fucking rats, dad. I'm taking them somewhere you'll never find them." She jerked on J's hand, pulling him with her. A and V followed warily, heads ducked, eyes glued to the floor. When Betty started forwards, Toni was already there, waiting to pounce.</p><p>"Elisabeth!" Alice snapped. It was the parental tone in her mother's voice that sent Betty's heart plunging into her gut. "Hold it there, young lady."</p><p>Betty felt like she had been punched in the gut. She snapped her head up, meeting her mom's gaze. "Mom." Betty's voice broke, tears stinging her eyes. Clutching J's hand for dear life, "Mom, you know this is wrong! How can you stand by and watch him do this?"</p><p>A sob broke out, but she couldn't help it. "What about Polly, mom?" the words were cracking before she could stop them. "What part does my sister play in this?"</p><p>Betty's gaze went to Mr Lodge. "Why did he say Polly's name, mom?"</p><p>"I've had enough of this." Hiram spoke up, mocking a yawn. "Alice, I expect you to control your daughter. She is becoming a liability. I want the prototypes before midnight," he nodded at FP. "Including the fourth, of course. I'd like the whole batch."</p><p>FP nodded, a smug smile pricking on his lips. "I won't let you down. I'll have them ready to ship straight away."</p><p>Hermione hummed. "You better, Jones. We don't make deals like this often." she inclined her head. "We can talk about an expansion in stock later down the line."</p><p>"Of course! Don't you worry, Mrs Lodge."</p><p>FP's attention went to Toni, who was still standing by the stage. "Miss Topaz, restrain my daughter. She is making a fool of me, as well as herself."</p><p>Toni nodded. "Yes, sir."</p><p>"Children." FP faced the rats, before raising his thumb and index. He nudged Hiram. "When they come out of their programming, simply do this."</p><p>"Dad." Betty gritted out. Keeping one hand wrapped around J's arm, she took slow steps backwards. "Please, don't." she said. For a second, Betty wondered if she could bring her step father to their side. "You're a...wonderful inventor," the words came out before she could stop them, and she felt J stiffen. "You're a good man, dad. Just let them go."</p><p>FP cocked his head, and for a second, she thought he was back. The man who married her mother and made her pancakes when she was upset. Except all of that was a lie, orchestrated right under her nose, while he abused four kids in his basement.</p><p>"Oh, Elisabeth." he chuckled, Doctor Jekyll once again taking over. His lips curled into a smirk. "You are quite the actress. I love your crocodile tears. But like I said, this is none of your concern. Now, get off the stage and let the adults take care of it."</p><p>"No." she said cooley. "If you want to take them, you might as well make me one of your rats too."</p><p>"Oh for heaven's sake!" Hermione Lodge snapped. "FP get her out of here! I came for a screening, not to watch melancholic teenage drama," she hissed. "Por el amor de Dios!"</p><p>FP's cheeks turned crimson. "Apologies, Hermione."</p><p>"I'm going to kill you," J said coldly. He glared at FP, wrenching his hand from Betty's. His green eyes were ringed with electric blue light, and for once, she wasn't scared, more comforted. "for what you've done to us. I'm going to fucking kill you."</p><p>The man chuckled. "Wonderful, Prototype Two! That's exactly what you've been created for." Turning to the crowd, he grinned. "At least his initial programming is working."</p><p>Hiram nodded with a smile. "And what about the specifications we requested?"</p><p>FP's expression lit up. "Of course, we aim to to strip away everything. There will be that layer of morality and right and wrong. But when put in a certain situation, he will shine, I call him Cole. Prototype Two's second personality. He will be triggered through anger." His eyes glittered with unkempt madness. "The perfect killing machine."</p><p>There was an appreciative mumble from the crowd, and Betty swallowed a scream clawing at her throat. J shot her a look, and her insides turned to jelly.</p><p>"Don't let them do this to us," he whimpered. Betty watched the boy slowly come undone, and she could relate to it. The pain and anger and frustration of losing something or someone. Betty lost Polly. J had lost himself. He'd lost everything.</p><p>"I just...I just want to go home."</p><p><em>Do something.</em> A's voice was a soft squeak. <em>He's your father, Betty. Talk to him!</em></p><p>"You're insane," she finally spluttered at FP. "You're all insane!"</p><p>FP shook his head, with an eye-roll. "Teenagers, am I right?" he told the crowd, before settling her with a wide smile. Like she was four years old. "Let me prove it to you, sweetie," he murmured, "let me prove to you that these children you speak of, are nothing but machines with human faces."</p><p>There was something about her step father's words that sent her heart into a frenzy, all the blood rushing to her ears. "Stop." she pleaded. "Please, just leave them."</p><p>"Adorable." Hiram tittered. "Elizabeth has developed quite the attachment. It's fascinating." he gaped. "They were even holding hands."</p><p>"Indeed," FP said. "Now, honey. Watch and learn."</p><p>FP snapped his fingers. "Sleep." he said simply, and J did just that. He crumpled in her arms, as light as a feather, before sagging to the stage floor. Betty didn't need to look around to see A and V had followed in his footsteps, collapsing like their puppet strings had been severed. Betty reached out to pull J up, but he was completely out. His eyes were shut peacefully, but she knew it was part of whatever programming her step father had built into him. He was to fall and rise at Mr Jones's command, and she couldn't stop it. Her father had all the control, and they had no choice but to bow to his filthy will.</p><p>FP dropped his hand. "See." he shot her a smile. "Nothing but machines."</p><p>She was quick to fall to her knees beside J, pulling him into her lap. "Because of what you did to them!" she cried, "you did this to them!"</p><p>"Get off the stage, Elizabeth." was her step father's only response, before eagerly diving into excited conversation with the other adults.</p><p>Trembling, she let her hand gently brush against the black spandex glued to his chest, her heart hammering, before an all too familiar hand was grasping hers and yanking her off stage, away from the rats. "No." Betty was breathless, struggling in Toni's grip.</p><p>"No, let me go!" she screamed. "You can't do this to them!"</p><p>"Rest assured, they are only prototypes," FP told the Lodge's. "Freddie will remove everything that makes them human in the final products, and any specifications you requested will be added. "tonight was a blunder, instigated by my darling daughter who we will definitely be shipping to boarding school, come first light."</p><p>Hiram hummed. "I trust she will have no memory of tonight?"</p><p>"That's right. It seems if Elizabeth can't play by the rules, I have no choice but to remove her."</p><p>"What?" Betty struggled violently, FP's words hitting her like a wave. They were planning on removing everything. Everything that made the rats who they were. J came to mind. His eyes full of terror, his hand clasped in hers. A and V. A's soft voice inside her head, and V dropping to her knees and slamming her hands over her ears to block everything out.</p><p>"Are you serious, dad?" she was laughing then, almost as hysterically as J, lunging out of Toni's embrace. Betty looked to Alice desperately, blue eyes wild. "Mom!"</p><p>"Switzerland, Betty." Alice beamed. "It's where all the naughty kids go."</p><p>Betty could feel herself start to hyperventilate, her chest squeezing, all the breath being drained from her lungs. She twisted in Toni's grip, attempting to kick the girl in the groin. Except Toni was much stronger than she thought.</p><p>When Betty violently pulled away, shakily aiming her right leg and booting the girl as hard as she could, she received a punch in the gut, knocking the breath out of her. Toni had an iron fist. "You think you can ship me off to boarding school and continue illegally experimenting on and trafficking kids?!"</p><p>"Betty." FP came to face her, grabbing her chin and forcing the girl to look at him. She did, wide blue eyes brimming with tears. Toni tugged her arms behind her back.</p><p>"It's sweet that you grew so attached to my rats, honey," he murmured, his breath stinking of mint, "really, you should have made real friends, but you decided to befriend my prototypes." FP tutted. "Honestly Betty, you've got to make an effort."</p><p>Betty bit back the yearning to scream at him. Instead of responding, she spat in his face.</p><p>FP didn't flinch, swiping saliva from his cheek with his other hand. "Very mature, Elizabeth. Now, be a good girl and do as I say, or I'll make sure Mr Andrews makes your little friends feel excruciating pain during their final remodelling."</p><p>He pulled a face, mocking hers. "You don't want my little rats who you've known barely a night to suffer, do you?"</p><p>Once again, she felt like a kid, with every eye on her. Betty bowed her head, but FP jerked it back to face him. "Answer me, you little brat."</p><p>"No." she whispered, and he nodded, shaking her head for her. "I thought so." her step father tutted, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Are you going to behave?"</p><p>She stopped struggling, the bottom falling out of her. Her chest was heaving, her heart hammering, but Betty held it in, wrenching herself from his impenetrable grasp.</p><p>"Yes." Betty couldn't breathe, "just don't hurt them."</p><p>He laughed and patted her head. "Pain? My prototypes don't feel pain, unless I make them feel it! They're super human, my dear daughter! They do not feel such mundane chores such as pain."</p><p>Lying, Betty wanted to snap back. He was lying. She'd seen it in their eyes, as clear as day. Even under the program's influence, she still saw the underlying agony writhing through J. FP straightened up, nodding to Toni. "Miss Topaz, take Elizabeth down to my lab. I have last minute business to go over with the buyers, and then I'll be taking care of her, since her suppressor does not seem to be working. For now, make sure my daughter is subdued. And for goodness sake, get her a soda or something. She looks like she's going to pass out. I do not want to be dealing with sickly teenagers."</p><p>"Yes, Mr Jones. Of course, Mr Jones." Toni kept a steely grip of her shoulders, shoving her towards the door. Twisting around, Betty glimpsed the Lodge's stepping onto the stage and standing over the unconscious rats, intrigued eyes and devilish smiles. Hermione kicked V in the side with her heel rolling the girl to her front so the woman could get a better look. Hiram ordered for the boys to be unceremoniously brought to their feet, while he circled them like a shark, prodding, poking and pulling at their hair.</p><p>"So handsome." Hiram commented, tracing J's lips. He smiled widely at FP. "I've got to hand it to you and Freddie, Jones. You've made quite the impression."</p><p>Hermione ran her fingers through A's hair, her fingertips easing open his left eye. "Indeed." she murmured, retracting her finger. "I cannot wait for the full versions."</p><p>The full versions.</p><p>They were just kids, Betty wanted to cry out, her gaze stuck to the congregation of adults joining the Lodge's. She kept her mouth shut, however, stuck under her father's unwavering gaze. He was talking to clients, smiling and laughing, but every so often his eyes landed on her. Alice, her lovely brainwashed mother, followed Hiram and Hermione, the tone of her voice was monotone, eagerly explaining how well- produced Hiram's new little pets were. How well behaved they were, the perfect weapons to be turned into soldiers. She couldn't look. Especially when her frantic eyes landed on J, how vulnerable he looked, curled into himself. Twisting back around, she forced her legs to work, allowing Toni to push her further and further from the room, further from the rats...</p><p>Further from J.</p><hr/><p>FP's lab, unlike an all-encompassing storage facility that inhabited single-family suburban houses such as this, was violently lit, immaculate, and sparsely adorned with contemporary furniture. The clinicity of it was familiar in the way a doctor's office might inspire seclusion and reticence, but the inclusion of a dentist chair fitted with restraints spoke vehemently of the macabre goings on beneath the surface of her step father's All American home. The sharp stink of antiseptic tingled in Betty's nose, and she fought back a sneeze, pulling against the velcro straps pinning her to the chair.</p><p>The sound of the hot air circulating through the vents caused the pipes to groan from somewhere else in the manner. Betty didn't know where, she'd scarcely seen much beyond this level - level -2. It wasn't an unnerving noise, she was used to it, but it carried an odour with it that reminded her of damp socks. It was good to think of this, she told herself, it helped her focus on anything else; she could tune out his words, pretend she was alone. The room itself was clean, sparse of furniture, and had daylight bulbs - a poor imitation of the outside when you remembered there was one.</p><p>"Don't bother struggling, sweetheart." FP loomed over her with his signature sly smile, narrow fingers wrapped around a frosted glass of cola, condensation dripping down expensive crystal. Betty shook her head when he offered it. "The restraints are my own invention." He winked at her. "How do you think I kept my prototypes secure through all the initial stages of their conversion, hmm? They fought a lot, Betty. I had to keep them in line."</p><p>Allowing herself to let out a bitter scoff, Betty glared at her step father. "I didn't think you could get any more disgusting, and yet you've outdone yourself." She spat, jerking away from him as much as she could in her bindings. "You're a monster."</p><p>FP shook her head, his lips curving into a patronising smile. "You'll understand when you're older, Elizabeth."</p><p>"I'll understand why you're kidnapping teenagers and turning them into the Lodge's playthings?" Betty spat. "You can't justify this?" she squeaked, her voice once again teetering on hysterics. "Would you do that to me, huh? Would you empty me out and sell me to the Hiram and Hermione?"</p><p>"Elizabeth." his expression darkened. FP ran his finger around the rim of the glass of cola. "What did I tell you? Until I reinstate your suppressor, you will be behaved."</p><p>Betty let her head fall against the rubber headrest, her eyes fluttering closed. She didn't want to look at the monster anymore, or the soda in his hand that was making her feel progressively more nauseous. There was something about the dull fizzing of the cola in her ears combined with the reek of disinfectant that made her stomach twist into uncomfortable knots. "Elizabeth." FP's voice set slithers of ice creeping down her spine.</p><p>"Stop acting like a brat, and open your eyes." there was a pause, before he continued. "Like I said, I have all the power here. I can make Fred Andrews do anything to your little friends." Betty flinched when she sensed him lean in, minty breath grazing her cheeks. "They may not be able to feel pain, but I'm sure Freddie could meddle with their pain receptors." FP chuckled. "Sweetie, I could give them the sensation of being ripped apart with no mercy, so if I was you I'd shut that little mouth and open those pretty eyes before I grow impatient, and allow Freddie to get creative."</p><p>She did. Biting so hard on her lip she tasted blood, Betty opened her eyes, finding herself nose to nose with her step father. His lips broke out into a grin.</p><p>"Really, your infatuation with my prototypes baffles me." He shoved the glass in her face. "Drink, sweetie. The cola will relax you, and you're looking quite peaky."</p><p>"I'm good," Betty managed to get out, licking her dry lips. "I'm not thirsty."</p><p>He held her gaze for a moment, before humming. "Why don't we play a game, hmm? You drink the cola like a good girl, and I answer one of your endless questions."</p><p>Betty considered. "How much cola?"</p><p>FP shrugged. "Enough to hydrate you and put some colour into your cheeks."</p><p>Straightening in the chair, she managed to nod. The velcro straps pinning her chest and ankles were cutting off her blood supply, and making it increasingly harder to breathe. "Fine." she muttered, "But you have to loosen the straps too. I can't move."</p><p>The man laughed. "I'm not stupid, Elisabeth." he said, "I'll give the cola to you myself. Open wide."</p><p>She had no choice. If Betty wanted to know the identity of the rats, then she'd bow to her step father's sick orders. Swallowing hard, she opened her mouth, letting him tip the glass so she could take a gulp. The soda was ice cold pouring into her mouth and dribbling down her chin. When she stopped drinking, FP only forced the glass further, and she choked on another mouthful. This time, the cola hit the back of her throat, a striking explosion causing her body to jerk. Her eyes stung and she coughed, soda bubbling up her nose, her chest and stomach constricting violently.</p><p>"Dad," Betty spluttered through a third mouthful. The glass rim gagged her lips, and Betty continued drinking, despite her stomach revolting when bubbling soda ran down her throat in a wave. She choked back another violent cough shaking her body, "Dad stop!"</p><p>He didn't stop, ignoring her until the glass was empty, and her cheeks were burning, her lungs on fire. FP finally retracted the drink, a smug smile twisting his lips.</p><p>"Better?"</p><p>Betty forced herself to nod. "Much better," she said bitterly, "Thanks dad."</p><p>He nodded, maintaining a smug smirk. "Of course."</p><p>Bastard. The word was on her tongue, but she bit it back, gulping the sickly fizzing bile vaulting its way back up her throat. FP was waiting for her to start screaming at him, but Betty would never give him the satisfaction. "You said you would answer one of my questions," she said coldly. out, "So." Betty leaned towards him, as far as the velcro straps would let her. She wanted to ask him about Polly; why her sister had slipped from Hiram Lodge's lips, and her mother had barely flinched. Except part of Betty didn't want to know. If Polly had been part of the Indigo project, it meant she too had been through FP's cruel experiments. Even the though of Polly standing behind that glass wall, shattered her heart. "Tell me their names," she said, suppressing the urge to ask the truth about her sister. Not now, Betty thought. When she had saved J and the other rats, when they were safe and back home where they belonged. Then Betty would start asking the questions that burned her inside out, her thoughts spiralling into a hurricane.</p><p>If she asked it now, Betty would never stop. She would keep going, falling further and further into the crevices of her own mind, clawing for all those stolen memories.</p><p>"Their names." Betty said softly, "that's all I want to know."</p><p>FP opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head, "I don't want to know about your sick experiments, or your dealings with the Lodges. Tell me what their names were."</p><p>"Oh, Elizabeth." FP sighed. He placed the glass on a surface behind him, and Betty pretended not to see the sea of needles and scalpels lain out on glistening silver. Cocking a brow, her step father studied her. "Of all the questions exploding in that brain of yours, why choose something as boring as my prototypes's old identities?"</p><p>"Tell me." Betty gritted out. "You promised."</p><p>FP mocked a pout, before getting to work. He buzzed around her like a moth to a flame, grabbing various needles differing in size and holding them to the light. "Ah, I did. Of course. Well, a promise is a promise." he shrugged. "I suppose, if I'm going to take away your memories, it won't really matter. You won't even remember you met them."</p><p>Betty watched her step father closely. He took her arm, prodding for a vein. FP shot her a smile. "You're not afraid of needles are you, sweetie?"</p><p>She shook her head, even if yes, Betty was terrified of needles. "I asked you a question," her voice trembled when he started to prepare an IV drip, sifting through different coloured solutions. When Betty looked up, something hung over her head, a metal contraption which looked straight out of Stranger Things. FP followed her gaze and chuckled. "Oh no, that's not for you, honey. That little machine hanging above you is how I convert children into prototypes." he sighed, and Betty jerked away from him when his fingers tiptoed up her arm. "It's excruciatingly painful, Elizabeth. That is of course why I severed the parietal lobe. I got tired of them acting like brats screaming and crying." This time, Betty was the one to shriek when something sharp was slid into her arm. FP tutted. "It's just a needle, Elizabeth. My prototypes endured a lot worse."</p><p>Ignoring her squeals, FP shoved her needle in further, attaching the fear of needles stemmed back to the childhood, when a five year old Betty had stepped on a stray needle sticking from Midge Klump's staircase. It had gone right through her foot, perforating her flesh. Betty didn't remember much, but it was enough. The foggy memories of screaming, seeing the sharp point sticking from her bare sole slick with red, still made her cringe years later. "Get them out," Betty whimpered to the air.</p><p>She could see where the sharp steel entered her veins, and her breath shortened, a scream rising in her throat. She attempted to wrench her other arm free, she had barely any strength. Her hands just flopped back down, and FP laughed heartily. "Please," She rasped, panic beginning to break through bravado she had built up. "Get it out!"</p><p>"Relax," FP said, but he was shoving the needle in and out, a sickly smile spreading across his lips. "Are you going to ask any more questions, or do you want me to introduce you to another needle? There is a very effective memory erasure procedure, involving a spike being inserted into the back of your skull. Now that, Betty? That one hurts."</p><p>"But.." Betty swallowed hard, "you promised! You said you would answer my question!"</p><p>FP nodded. "So is that a yes to the spike?" his tone grew colder. "Say one more fucking word, and I'll do it. Do not test me, Elizabeth."</p><p>No. Betty gagged, the wave of coke finally making a reappearance. He was never going to tell her their names, and she knew FP knew them. After all, he'd worked so hard to take them, completely ripping away their identities. The bastard was teasing her with them.</p><p>"I'm going to be sick," Betty managed to squeak. The cola was filling the back of her throat, and FP's words were slamming into her, sending her body jerking forwards, lunging in the restraints. A cocktail of anger and fear and resentment filled her veins.</p><p>"Let me go." Betty wrenched against the restraints, fight or flight taking over. She was trembling, all the blood rushing to her head. J, she thought dizzily. How many times had he sat in this chair? How many times had he screamed for a family he didn't remember?</p><p>"I said let me go!" she cried, "Let me go! Get it out!"</p><p>"If you're going to throw up, please do so." FP was yanking at the IV sticking into her arm, "go ahead and projectile vomit all over yourself, like the child you are."</p><p>Throwing up in her step father's face was appealing, though the consequences were too damaging. Betty clamped her mouth shut, and FP nodded with a smile and straightened up, securing the syringe with a strip of medical tape. Betty glimpsed a clear baggie of cloudy blue liquid. "Now, Elizabeth, what I'm currently giving you is an old creation of mine. It will make you feel quite sleepy, and effectively remove the last twenty-four hours of memory from your fragile little mind." he ruffled her hair. "You will wake up, oblivious of my work, as well as my plans for the prototypes, and will live blissfully ignorant. And myself and your mother can continue without your childish meddling."</p><p>"No," Betty moaned. The effects of the drugs were startlingly fast, slowly beginning to envelope her brain in molasses. Seeing her expression, FP only looked gleeful.</p><p>"Yes, sweetie. I'm afraid this is adult business, and has no place for prurient, disobedient kids. So, I'd rest if I was you. You have an early flight." FP backed away, still with that triumphant smile. "Switzerland is lovely this time of year. I'm sure you'll have a grand time." He saluted her. "Rest, sweetie. You've had quite the night."</p><p>Tearing at the velcro straps, a fresh cocktail of panic filled her veins. "No!" she tried to lunge up, tried to scream, but the IV held her, a tugging tightness sending her stomach slithering to her toes. The sound of the door opening and then shutting made her flinch, and Betty found herself alone, glaring up the blinding white light shining down on her. The rats were nowhere to be seen, which meant Hiram Lodge already had his filthy hands on them. With that thought, Betty tried again, trying to pull her wrists free.</p><p>It was no use. Her head hit the rubber cushioning, and she let out a frustrated scream, blinking rapidly to stop tears falling. Crying wouldn't help. Crying wouldn't save the rats. A sudden pining came over her, filling Betty's blood with poison. Mom. She wanted to cry out, scream until her voice was gone. Don't let him do this to me. Tugging at the bindings, Betty screamed until her voice was choking up, her chest burning.</p><p>But then there was a familiar prickling sensation in the back of her head, a buzz of static slowly building up, moulding itself into fruition.</p><p>
  <em>Betty?</em>
</p><p>A's voice was slurred slightly, a panicked murmur slipping into her consciousness.</p><p>"A." she whispered, straightening up, her heart speeding up. "You're awake."</p><p><em>Yeah</em>, he murmured. <em>But not for long</em>. A let out a soft moan, and it sounded like pain. Except her step father insisted he didn't feel it anymore.</p><p>
  <em>Betty, Mr Jones is...doing something to me. I can't think straight. He put me on some pretty...funky meds. I keep drifting in and out of sleep.</em>
</p><p>She couldn't help herself, the words flying out, despite so much more burning on her tongue. Betty wanted to cry out to him, tell the boy what her father had done to him and the others was inhumane. Fred Andrews was his father, which meant 'A' was now A Andrews, his name slowly piecing itself together. Part of her, however, knew A didn't want that. He didn't want her sympathy. All he wanted was to be let go. So, swallowing down all sympathetic words and promises Betty knew she couldn't keep, she held her breath.</p><p>"Where are you? Where's J?"</p><p>
  <em>I don't know. He took my brother a while ago. V is in here with me, but she's out of it.</em>
</p><p>Prickles of panic sizzled down Betty's spine. "A, what is he doing to you?"</p><p>The boy surprised her with a half hearted scoff. <em>What do you think? You saw the presentation, right? He's putting us through Phase Two.</em></p><p>Betty swallowed another mouthful of bile. Phase Three, FP had proudly announced, was removing everything that made the rats human. She didn't want to know what Phase Two was.</p><p>"I'll get you out," Betty whispered, yanking at the velcro straps, hot tears dribbling down her cheeks. Helpless. That's what she was.</p><p>"I promise you, I'll get you out, and away from my step father."</p><p>There was a pause before the boy let out a sharp breath which crackled in her mind; <em>Wait, Betty, where are you?</em></p><p>"In my father's lab," she replied, twisting in the restraints to face the needle still protruding from her arm. Betty tugged at it, her lip twisting. "He's making me forget."</p><p>A cursed quietly. <em>Betty, you've got to get out of there.</em></p><p>"Easier said than done," she breathed. "He's got me tied down."</p><p><em>Shit.</em> A muttered. <em>Okay, I.. I have an idea, but you don't have to go through with it, because I know what my presence in another body does to people.</em></p><p>He let out a breath which sounded like a sob. <em>The pizza guy was minutes from haemorrhaging. Mr Jones designed me to take over the strong and powerful. But as for the weak? their bodies crumble before I can even take full control.</em></p><p>Adrenaline flooded Betty's system, pumping and beats like it was trying to escape. Her gaze skimmed over the ceiling. "You're talking about Jumping."</p><p>A hummed.<em> Yeah. Mr Jones said in my final model, or whatever, I'll be able to jump into anyone. But right now.. He trailed off. I guess you saw it with the pizza guy.</em></p><p>Betty did. The memory of Reggie Mantle holding his nose with a pained scowl crossed her mind, but it barely fazed her. If A jumping into her body could break her out so she could save him and siblings, then so be it. "So what's your plan?"</p><p>He took a breath. <em>Betty, you don't have to do this. We can find other ways to get you out.</em></p><p>Raking her fingernails down the plush leather seat, Betty forced herself to sound calm, to protect her thoughts. "Don't." she said softly. "My step father is handing you three over to Hiram Lodge tonight. I'm not letting that happen. Now tell me what to do."</p><p>A sounded wary, but cleared his throat in agreement;<em> Okay. I guess you're right. I'm going to jump into you, and break you out, using my strength. I won't fully take over, though. Mr Jones taught me to take over certain parts of the body and mind, so I should be able to channel my ability when I'm inside you, and break you out.</em></p><p>"Wait." Betty frowned. "Can't you break yourself out?"</p><p>T<em>here are guards,</em> A muttered. <em>They're outside the door, I can sense them. Jumping into you will be easier, since you're...</em></p><p>"Human?" she finished for him, before realising her mistake. "Wait, no, I didn't mean-"</p><p>A's voice shook a little.<em> I was going to say, 'Not a prototype' but sure. Human works too.</em></p><p>Betty nodded to herself, but her breathing was rapid. The idea of being possessed, even by human boy, and not a ghost, was still terrifying. "What does it feel like?" she whispered, "I mean, will I feel anything?"</p><p>His reply came instantly, enveloped with static.<em> I'm not going to sugar-coat it for you, Betty. It hurts. I felt the pizza guy's pain and fear, his mind trying to push me out, his body beginning to crumble under my weight. It's like... He let out a soft sigh, It's like being shoved to the back of your own head, a shadow falling over you.</em></p><p>"Do it." Betty said, biting back the longing to retract, driving the boy's voice from her mind.</p><p>
  <em>Are you sure?</em>
</p><p>No. She really wasn't sure. But it was better than being helplessly strapped down while pumped with FP's amnesia drugs. "Yes." Squeezing her eyes shut, Betty braced herself.</p><p>"Do it, before I chicken out."</p><p><em>There's something you should also know,</em> A said quietly. <em>This will completely drain me of energy, so I won't be able to talk to you anymore. You need to promise me you'll save J and V, Betty. They're all I have. Mr Jones took everything else away.</em></p><p>A. Andrews.</p><p>The name slithered into the back of her mind, and Betty pushed it away, shaking away the memory of the man FP had claimed was A's father. The man who had stood by and watched her step-father mould him into Hiram and Hermione Lodge's perfect little soldier.</p><p>The words, "Your name is Andrews" were on Betty's lips, but she couldn't bring herself to say them, building a shield in her mind; one that he couldn't penetrate, couldn't get through and see the ugly truth. Yes, he was Fred's son. But Fred was working with FP. Fred Andrews had willingly given the boy to her step father for the sake of experimentation. There was no discernible way she could tell A that. Especially if he held onto the hope that he did have a father out there, one that loved him, and was waiting for him to come home. A deserved to be oblivious. At least right now.</p><p>"Okay." Betty finally choked out, "I promise."</p><p><em>Thank you.</em> He murmured.</p><p>Opening her mouth to answer the boy, the words were suddenly jammed in the back of her throat when something hit her a wave of what felt like static electricity filling her up, pulsing inside her bones, setting her blood alight. A. She started to cry out his name, telling him to stop. Except Betty no longer had control of her mouth. Her body still felt hers, and yet...not. She felt her pounding heart, the fear eating her up inside, shivers rocketing up and down her spine, but they weren't hers. It was like falling asleep. Her head lolled to the side, eyelids flickering. She could still see the ceiling, still see the clinical white walls of the room, but her eye wouldn't follow her movement.</p><p>"Fuck." Her lips were moving, but they weren't Betty's words. A. He was speaking through her, his voice strained. A lingering phantom sensation shook her, and she quickly realised the boy was yanking at the straps. "You were right," he gasped out, but quickly managed to pull one hand free. Betty watched the boy reached for the IV, and with one sharp tug, he yanked it out, hissing in pain that enveloped both of them.</p><p>"Are you okay?" He asked hesitantly. Hearing her own voice was jarring. "Just try and stay calm, okay?"</p><p>She couldn't answer him, her presence being pushed further back. Colourful prisms exploded in front of her eyes, sending her mind reeling. A was right. It was like being shoved into the dark. No matter how much she tried to reassure herself, Betty lost to the panic and fear. She screamed, but her scream was silent, slamming into her skull.</p><p>Another pull, followed by more. A cried out in frustration. "Fuck!"</p><p>Betty wasn't sure if it was her own mind spiralling, plunging into the dark, but quickly came to realise it was her physical body being propelled into the air. A hadn't counted on how strong he really was, his confusion exploding in her mind. She felt the impact of her body on the floor, her face hitting cold marble. A forced her to her knees, and her hand was rubbing gingerly at her nose. Betty knew what it was automatically, warm liquid sliding from her nostrils. "Oh." A's voice pushed through her lips, a startled hiss, and he scrubbed at her nose with a gasp. Blood. She sensed it dripping down her chin.</p><p>"Your body..." he choked out, "Betty, your body is rejecting me."</p><p>Something about the boy's words sent her own words into full culmination.</p><p><em>Get out!</em> She panicked. <em>A, you're killing me!</em></p><p>"I know, I know, I can't..." he was struggling, she could feel him trying to pull back, but he was almost fully inside her, his form leeching fully onto her mind.</p><p>Betty felt the boy's horror. "Shit, I didn't mean..." He trailed off, and she sensed A's energy light up her eyes, dazzling cerulean igniting her body.</p><p>"Betty." A spluttered through her mouth. "Remember what I...remember what I said, okay?"</p><p><em>Yes!</em> She cried at the barrier. <em>Yes, I promised!</em></p><p>He pulled her lips into a smile. "Hurry, okay? Save them."</p><p>And then A was leaving her, severing his energy from her limbs, releasing his leech like hold from her mind. Slowly, Betty regained the ability to breathe again.</p><p>The change was abrupt. Betty felt the boy's presence jump from her quickly, allowing her to ease back into control. The barrier that blocked her out crumbled, sensations drifting back. The pain was like a tidal wave, an agonising shriek pounding through her bones, bringing her to fruition. She sucked in a breath of air, her body flopping back to the floor. Her hands. Betty stared at them, marvelling at rivulets of blue still sizzling up and down her fingers. She still felt A's influence, his lingering strength that had broken her out. When the blue sparks dancing across her fingertips sizzled out, Betty sat up, trying to ignore her aching body. she dabbed at her nose, frowning at spotted red.</p><p>But she was still alive. Slowly, Betty sat up properly, her gaze flitting to the chair she had been strapped to. It was on the other side of the room, the velcro straps were on the floor, singed through. Apart from a dull ache in her legs and chest, Betty was fine. Whatever thrived inside the boy, had temporarily given her the ability to endure the impact. Only just. Betty swiped at her nose, grimacing and wiping it on her dress.</p><p>"A?" she whispered, biting back the rest of her words.</p><p>A was gone. The crackling static in her brain had dispersed, and Betty was alone. She hastily made her way to the door and yanked it open, slipping through the gap, stumbling onto a bleached white corridor. The lights were dim, compared to the ones in the lab; identical white doors sweeping parallel to each other. Betty started down the hallway quickly, cringing at the sensation of cold marble slithering between her bare toes.</p><p>Where were they? FP said he was making the exchange, which meant he had stored them somewhere. A said Mr Jones had done something to him.</p><p>But what?</p><p>Swallowing hard, Betty lunged into a run, peeking in each room. They all looked the same, the identical dentist chair contraption she had been strapped to. It was eerie how many rooms her step father had, all with the same bed. The same scary looking equipment.</p><p>"We can discuss an expansion in stock further down the line." Hermione Lodge's voice seeped into her mind, as cruel as ever. The memory twisted her gut, and Betty realised these rooms were brand new. Empty. Ready to be filled when the day come when Hiram and Hermione Lodge got bored of their three soldiers, and requested more.</p><p>Betty gritted her teeth. She tore her gaze from each room, willing herself further forwards. Whatever plan her step-father had, she was stopping it.</p><p>She was halfway down the hallway, when a warm hand slid over his mouth, strong arms wrapping leaching around her waist and yanking her backwards. In the struggle, Betty forgot how to scream. She flailed, squeaking into the flesh of her attacker's hand.</p><p>"Hey!" A voice grunted, "Dude, chill out!"</p><p>That voice. Betty struggled from the grip, spinning around to face a dishevelled looking J. He was still wearing the black bodysuit, his raven hair tousled, hanging in eyes that no longer looked frenzied and fearful. Instead, the boy offered her a small smile, green eyes glistening with that spark, the humanity he had before the program took control. Though something struck her as...wrong. J looked exactly the same, minus the trance like glare he'd had under her step-father's mind control. He didn't look any different, and yet there was something in his eyes, a glitter she hadn't noticed since meeting him.</p><p>The smile, too. That was new.</p><p>She had never seen him smile. Not a real, proper smile.</p><p>"Betty." J said, his hand snaking around her wrist. The fact that he was calling her by her name struck her, but she suppressed the thought. "We're getting out of here. Now."</p><p>When he pulled her to follow him, she stumbled over her feet, fighting to keep her balance. "How did you get out?" she hissed. "J, your brother broke me out to come and get you."</p><p>The boy stiffened, but continued, tightening his grip on her arm. "I know where they are," he murmured, "Follow me, and don't say a goddamn word."</p><p>Betty nodded silently, letting the raven pull her through the last door at the end of the hallway. This one was different to the others; a sliding glass pane instead of normal sleek metal. J kept a finger to his lips, motioning for her to be quiet. The room they entered was large compared to the one she had been in. It reminded her of the size of a regular classroom. The walls were of course the same bland white, the floor pristine marble, dim lights above flickered, casting a crepuscular glow within the room.</p><p>This wasn't a lab, however. There were no creepy reclining chair with velcro straps, or surfaces covered in scalpels and tweezers. Instead, all she saw were empty metal gurneys lining the back wall, shelves filled with boxes and books.</p><p>"Storage." J muttered, taking slow steps forward, his gaze flitting around. Before she could answer, the boy was dragging her towards ancient looking bookcases which looked ready to collapse. Betty stumbled. "Why are we here?" she managed to choke out.</p><p>The boy ignored her, pulling dusty boxes from the shelf closest to the door, and rifling through them. She caught glimpses of paperwork and files, leather bound books with yellowing paper.</p><p>"J." She said again forcing her voice to sound stronger than it was. "What are you doing?"</p><p>Wrapping his arms around a particular heavy looking box, J pulled it off the shelf and dropped it on the ground, before lowering himself to his knees.</p><p>He lifted his head, green eyes landing on her. "I want to show you something." his voice was soft and calm, and nothing like Betty had heard. The reassuring smile that pricked on his lips melted away any logical thought. They didn't have time for this! Her mind screamed. A and V were still trapped, still in danger of being completely wiped of their humanity. Something, however, about J, about the way he was looking at her, shoved all those thoughts back. Nodding, Betty joined the boy, kneeling over the box.</p><p>J was already delving his hands inside, and he was shaking. Trembling, like he had in her arms, back on stage, in front of Hiram and Hermione Lodge.</p><p>Slowly, the boy started to pull things out. Betty glimpsed a baseball cap first. It was dark red with a green shading. J gently set it on his knees, straightening it out.</p><p>Next, a Riverdale High cheerleading uniform. Betty recognised it automatically. Polly was in the River Vixens in her Sophomore year. Betty, even in middle school, had gone to the game every friday night with Alice. The colours were washed out, though, and when J shook it, a cloud of dust flew into her face. Betty covered her mouth, stifling a cough.</p><p>"I don't understand." Betty said softly, meeting eyes with J.</p><p>He only offered her a sympathetic look, before pulling out a bundle this time. Blue and Gold. The Riverdale High bulldog Letterman jacket. Like the cheerleading uniform, the colours were bland and ashy, the once vibrant blue and yellow was dull and colourless.</p><p>With age, Betty thought. Bile once more began to creep up her throat.</p><p>The next things came in a set. A wool grey beanie which like everything else, had darkened with age. Then something that melded into his hands. An object.</p><p>Unable stop herself, Betty leaned forward, but the words she wanted to say were glued to her throat. J shrugged. His expression slackened, and when she peered closer, Betty realised what it was. A Nintendo DS. Pink. Like everything else in the box, it was covered in dust. "Damn thing's stuck," J murmured, his finger sliding up and down the casing and prodding the power button. The boy finally met Betty's eye.</p><p>"His name was Jughead." he said, putting the games console back down. "No second name, but there was a first."</p><p>Sucking in a startled breath, Betty started to speak, but he continued, his gaze dropping to his lap. "And that was Jughead."</p><p>Jughead.</p><p>The name was... It was beautiful. And looking at the boy, at his raven curls dipping in vibrant prolific eyes, the small smile curved on his lips, she could believe it.</p><p>Jughead, she thought, tears stinging her eyes. Jughead.</p><p>"You don't know your name." Betty said slowly, shivers creeping up her spine. She tried to ignore his use of past tense. "My..my dad took it away from you."</p><p>The boy looked up sharply and held her gaze for a moment. "Jughead." he said again, ignoring her confusion. "Remember that, okay?" his hands went back to the box, fingering the sides. His touch was almost melancholic, if there were such thing. "Just let me show you this, okay?" Jughead's eyes were pleading. "Let me show you, and then we can go."</p><p>"Show me what?!"</p><p>Betty bit back a shriek, her gaze was already on something the raven was yet to pull out. Judging from his expression, he had no intention to, his attention only on what had already come out. But she had seen it; the only real colour, apart from the Letterman jacket, and the Vixen uniform. Powder pink. It stood out to her, pulling at something in her memory, which had been torn away. She found herself lunging for it, her breath quickening, lungs bursting. Before a warm hand landed on hers, lacing their fingers together. "Not now." Jughead said softly, squeezing her hand. When she tried to pull away, he tightened his grip. "Not now, Betty. Because I promise you, it will hurt."</p><p>It already hurt. It hurt like an ache, a dull throb in her heart and chest. Not physical, but it felt like it. Her pain was an icy wind choking the breath from her lungs, fashioning a noose around her neck. It was savage, bitter blasts cutting right to her bones and gripping her brain in it's freezing claws. Betty's heart constricted in it's wake as if not sure if it should go on beating, allowing her precious gasps of breath.</p><p>There was so much that had been cruelly torn away, severed from her memory.</p><p>Just this once, though, Betty ignored the searing impulse to claw for powder pink. She nodded, swallowing hard. "We should go." Jughead said. His hold was gentle, and he pulled Betty to her feet, before putting everything neatly back in the box.</p><p>This time, he matched each item with a name. "This is what I wanted to show you."</p><p>Betty could only nod, swallowing a sob.</p><p>"Veronica Gomez." Jughead started, placing the Vixen uniform in.</p><p>Betty's heart swelled in her chest.</p><p>"Archie Andrews." Jughead dropped the baseball cap in next, before the Letterman and DS. "And Jughead Jones."</p><p>The fourth item had a name attached too, but...no. Not yet. Not now.</p><p>Only when they were safe, when they were out of her step father's clutches. That was when Betty would entertain the thoughts plaguing her. There was one that wouldn't leave her alone, brushing the edge of her consciousness every time it had the chance.</p><p>No time to delve into it though.</p><p>They had to get out.</p><p>As if he had read her mind, Jughead took her arm this time, marching over to the door. But something stopped him abruptly, bringing the boy to a standstill.</p><p>At first Betty couldn't see what he was looking at, but when she followed his gaze, and her heart plummeted. Not all of the metal gurney's were empty. There was one near the door, drowned in shadow, which must have been why neither of them seen it when they came in. Jughead let go of her arm, and was rushing towards the bed, stumbling over his feet.</p><p>A pristine white sheet covered what looked like a body. But when Betty inched closer, she noticed it was moving. Breathing. Jughad pulled back the sheet, revealing a dark haired boy, around their age. His hair was inky black like Jughead, smooth olive skin, a silver ring piercing his lower lip. The boy's eyes were shut peacefully. When Jughead pulled the sheet further back, the kid's clothes were ragged; filthy jeans and a plaid shirt barely held together by three buttons. "Sweets." Jughead murmured, his voice breaking. He ran his fingers through the boy's hair. "He's one of the kids at St. Mary's."</p><p>"The orphanage?" Betty whispered, and he nodded, letting the sheet fall back over the boy. "Which means your father is getting greedy, snatching Riverdale's orphans."</p><p>Betty was already piecing it together in her mind. "Which means, what? He's planning making more?" she swallowed, "like you?"</p><p>Jughead ignored her, striding over to a second body. This one looked to be curled up under the white sheet. Betty glimpsed a stray strand of crimson hair trickle out.</p><p>"No." Staggering back, Jughead choked out a cry. "No, not her. Not...not Cheryl."</p><p>Cheryl Blossom. Betty didn't dare look under the sheet, but part of her knew it was in fact the girl. Her gaze darted to Jughead, who had paled significantly.</p><p>"Do you... know her?"</p><p>The boy laughed. "Know her? Of course I do! I..." He trailed off with an exasperated hiss. "Come on." Before Betty could pull back, he grabbed her arm, but when voices started up from outside, Jughead dragged Betty behind one of the bookshelves. The two of them crept into the shadows, with Jughead peeking his head around to get a good look.</p><p>"Yeah. They're with me right now. Uh-huh. Everything is totes under control, Mr. J. They're all nice and ready to be shipped. Honestly, we should have used gift wrap."</p><p>The voice might as well have been a knife stuck into her spine. All too familiar, but this time completely devoid of character. Betty choked back a cry, and seemingly sensing her inevitable freak out, Jughead slammed his hand over her mouth, muffling her squeak.</p><p>Kevin. Kevin Keller strolled into the room, dressed in casual jeans and t-shirt, a black leather jacket over the top. He ran a hand through his hair, a phone pressed to his ear.</p><p>He stepped further into the room. "Hiram Lodge kept his promise after all, Mr Jones," he chuckled, "check your bank account. The cash was wired two minutes ago."</p><p>Kevin, Betty fought against Jughead's hand. Kevin was working for her step-father.</p><p>"Yeah." Kevin continued, "I guess since the prototypes were a success..." he rolled his eyes, "or a least WILL be a success, might I suggest accepting Mrs Lodge's offer?"</p><p>Whatever was said on the other end of the line made Kevin grimace. "Uh-huh. Well, yeah, sure. But sir, they're orphans. Wasn't one of your first prototypes an orphan? Not the handsome one, I mean the one who cried a lot. Yeah, him. The fucking baby." the boy hummed. "Oh, Mr Pizza Hut is in room 15. His brain is too developed for prototype status, but I'm sure you can find a way to make him useful, sir."</p><p>Reggie. Betty bit into her lip so hard she tasted blood. Of course he'd been captured.</p><p>"Let me go." She whimpered into Jughead's hand, straining against his grip.</p><p>He didn't reply, letting out a hiss of frustration.</p><p>"Anyway, I'll get on with shipping," Kevin said with a sigh. "Yep, all four of them."</p><p>Four? Betty stopped struggling when Kevin twisted around, scowling. "Get your asses in here pronto. Mr Jones wants you gone as soon as possible, along with Andrews."</p><p>When four figures stepped into the room, following Kevin's orders, Betty's blood ran cold. it wasn't because they, as usual, were stuck in the trance state. This time they had names, which made it worse. Archie and Veronica. A and V, staring forwards.</p><p>For a moment, Betty couldn't register the third rat. Her eyes skimmed right past them, and landed on the fourth. The girl was older, nineteen or twenty. Her hair was soft silk twisted into a golden ponytail, not a strand out of place. Her skin was pale and flawless and like the others, like Archie and veronica's crimson and raven, it was in perfect contrast to the elastic looking body suit perfectly hugging her hourglass figure.</p><p>Polly.</p><p>She meant to scream and dive to her feet, but then her brain was slowly digesting the third rat. Betty blinked rapidly, but she wasn't imagining it. Even if it seemed impossible, like an optical illusion, what she was seeing was real.</p><p>J, or Jughead, was standing in between his brother and sister, his expression blank, green eyes vacant.</p><p>Betty let out a soft whine. Especially, when the hand over her mouth began to shift, the skin tone darkening to a dark olive colour, black painted nails slowly taking shape.</p><p>"Don't scream." Toni said softly, her voice a frenzied whimper. The girl tightened her grip. "You're just going to listen to me, okay? The bottom line is-"</p><p>"You're a rat." Betty muffled into the girl's palm. Her gaze never left Jughead and Polly, who were being herded into what looked like a storage container.</p><p>"Not a rat," Toni hissed. "Your father took me when...well, we can into that later. All you need to know is he turned me into a freak. I can shape shift, but it fucking hurts. I wanted to show you who they were, Betty... I wanted to show you that your sister was alive. But I couldn't bring myself to say it. You needed to see it for yourself."</p><p>Toni let out a soft sob. "FP made me his right hand, and that bastard has taken my girl."</p><p>Cheryl.</p><p>Betty didn't answer. Couldn't answer, her wide blue eyes on her sister, on Polly. She was alive. Polly was alive.</p><p>Polly was a rat.</p><p>"So." Toni continued, You've got to follow them, and shut this down. Fred Andrews, Archie's father, and your mother are under FP's influence. You need to save the rats, before the finishing touches are made. I'll shift into you for as long as I can."</p><p>"But..." Betty twisted to the girl when Toni finally removed her hand. "Why him?" she whispered, "Why Jughead?"</p><p>"I should be asking the same thing!" a voice rang out, both girls twisting around to see Kevin Keller standing in front of them. His lips curved into a smirk.</p><p>"Betts." The boy offered her a mocking smile, taking a step towards her. Unlike Toni, there was no vacancy in his eyes, any hint of mind control. Her best friend was completely conscious, and the evil glitter in his eyes sent Betty's blood boiling.</p><p>"I did tell you not to go in the basement."</p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! :D EVIL KEVIN IS MY FAVE TO WRITE. Please make sure to tell me what you think, just to lemme know you guys still want more chapters. Also, just like, let me know what you thought of the writing/story! Critical feedback would be much appreciated, and I guess I just like to know people are def reading, before I start another chap. It;s... paranoia lol. also sorry if you saw the first edit where Archie's speech wasn't italicised. I'm a messy editor and it skipped my mind, ahh.</p><p> So, my question to you is:  if Polly is alive,,,, who was in FP's lab 3 years ago? ;)  </p><p>another Q: what do you want to happen to Reggie? Let me know! :D</p><p>the bughead is happening, hehe. Slowly. But it's happening!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. What Was Lost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It turns out, Betty lost more than her memories of Polly...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! this chapter visits Betty's memories that were suppressed, as well as Jughead's!</p><p>I think this was my fave chapter to write :') but i also got a little emotional idk ive been listening to a lot of James Bay, and he makes me cry, so yeet. Also, I'm sorry this is late! Midnight Sun arrived a few days ago, and I am OBSESSED.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <strong>Three Years Earlier. </strong>
</p><p>"I'll<em> be right back, okay?"</em></p><p>Polly's voice was still echoing in the back of Betty's head a little over two minutes after her sister had left the room, leaving her to choke on the sickly taste of her popsicle. Which suddenly didn't seem as appealing as it had a few minutes ago. </p><p>It was the frenzied knock on their front door that had sent the ice lolly slipping from her fingers and landing on Betty's pastel pink rug, a splash of crimson bleeding into the fabric. The taste of the frozen fruit treat was sour on her tongue, and she had to swallow several times to stop stinging bile creeping back up her throat. The clash of flavour, bitter cherry and sweet blueberry, was usually more of a delight. </p><p>Except in this case it tasted more like stale vomit, like she had accidentally swallowed a quarter, the tangy metallic aftertaste twisting her stomach into knots. The sound of Polly's footsteps thudding down the stairs intonated gunshots, each one piercing her ears, throwing Betty into fight or flight. Betty's hand was wrapped around the cold steel of the handle of her bedroom door, but she couldn't bring herself to pull it. Her heart was a relentless jackhammer in her chest, every second seeming to drag the longer Polly was gone. It was fine, she told herself. Mom was downstairs, so it was probably her bringing in groceries. Though Betty hadn't seen her mother in a few hours. Alice Cooper had been downstairs making breakfast when she and Polly had headed upstairs to get ready for school. The knock could be Jason, but it didn't sound like Polly's boyfriend. He had a very distinct knock, one that Betty always recognised; three consecutive loud bangs.</p><p>The one that she and Polly had heard, however, was more...desperate. Betty had counted. Seven knocks on their front door. There had been no movement from downstairs, which meant Alice had not answered it, which in turn sent Betty's thoughts spiralling. Had her mom gone out? If so, why? It was Alice's day off, and she prided her days off on making sure the house looked spectacular, even in the early hours before the school bus arrived.</p><p>So, who was it? Betty thought, panicking.</p><p>The mail? </p><p>No. The mail didn't come this early, and Betty didn't remember herself, Polly or her mother ordering off of Amazon. Besides, Alice had a ban on any of her daughter's ordering online. Ever since Polly bought what she thought was a dress from Ebay for her junior prom, which turned out to be a box full of thrift store clothing. Alice had been fuming. </p><p>Betty was usually a fairly calm person. The only things that scared her or gave her the heebie jeebie's were horror movies, and the commercials on Adult Swim after 8PM. This was different. This wasn't a so-called monster under the bed, or a Japanese creepy pasta haunting the back of her mind. This was real life, a possible intruder in their home, and Betty was alone.  Her gut clenched, a coil of dread beginning to slowly unravel down her spine. The idea of a stranger being in her home set her nerve endings on fire, but Betty couldn't move. Her feet were glued to the soft fibres of bedroom carpet, tiny wands tickling her soles, doing nothing to drown out the sound of her heart pumping in her ears.</p><p>"Polly!" </p><p>Swallowing thickly, she shouted her sister's name with more vigour, her narrow fingers squeezing the cool metal handle tighter, which was a welcoming relief on her clammy palms. With her heart in her throat, Betty twisted around to look for her phone before remembering she had left it on the kitchen island downstairs. She was silently cursing herself when a familiar scream rang out, making all the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, gooseflesh prickling down her bare arms. Polly. Her legs weakened, the cry sending her heart volleying into her throat. Something ignited inside of her, morbid curiosity and the overwhelming urge to protect her sister. Before she could think about what she was doing, Betty was yanking the door open with a hissed out breath and tripping across the upstairs landing. Betty's legs were on autopilot, driving her forwards, her bare feet slapping down the wooden steps of the Cooper home. </p><p>Staggering, Betty threw out her arms to keep her balance, hands gripping the banister as she took one step down at a time; pulse racing as she listened for any sound promising her safety. The house was eerily quiet and she couldn’t help but think the worst had happened to her sister. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she lunged for the umbrella stand, selecting a pointy one to wield as a weapon should an intruder dare to attack. The front door was open to her surprise. But there was nobody there. </p><p>No sign of her mom, either.</p><p>"Polly?" Betty's voice was teetering on hysterics. Wrapping her fingers around the umbrella - pink, with yellow polka dots- she changed her stance, edging towards the kitchen. The lounge door was open, spilling warm, cosy light. Empty. That left the downstairs bathroom and the kitchen. Feeling pathetic, only half dressed in her powder pink sweater for the day and her pyjama pants, her hair sticking up everywhere, she managed another shaky step. The front door was in plain sight, and if Betty squinted, she could see Mr Gilmore walking his Pomeranian. He was in yelling distance. She started towards the door in quick strides, brandishing the umbrella like a katana, when a crash sounded from the kitchen. This time, louder, followed by another familiar shriek.</p><p>"In here!" Polly's frantic cry rang out, and Betty swung back around, stumbling towards her sister's voice. When she reached the threshold, and got a good look at the carnage, Betty nearly dropped the umbrella. The kitchen looked perfect as usual. There were two steaming plates of eggs on the kitchen island, and two glasses of orange juice. Tearing her gaze from breakfast, Betty found her sister cowering in the corner, crouched near the refrigerator. Blinking in the deluge of early morning sunlight streaming through the blinds, she finally saw the intruder, familiar features bleeding into view. It was a boy. Though not any ordinary boy. He was her age. Fourteen today; small and stocky,  unbrushed crimson curls spilling from a baseball cap in messy strands. He was perhaps the only guy in the freshman class who could pull off pale skin, freckles speckling his nose and cheeks. Betty thought it would be a death sentence when the two of them started Riverdale High. Instead, however, he had somehow scaled the high school social ladder, landing himself a potential spot on the Bulldogs come Sophomore year, as well as Reggie Mantle, a well known senior as a friend. Archie Andrews. Her best friend. The Boy Next Door.</p><p>Her mom, however, forbade her from speaking to him. That didn't stop them being friends, though. It only strengthened their bond. As kids, they would speak through a tiny hole in the garden fence, making puppet shows and singing to each other until the late hours. In Summer, Archie would intentionally kick his ball into the Cooper's garden so he could talk to Betty for several precious minutes. In the winter, they would both lock their rooms and sit on their respective window seats, and just talk, and watch snowflakes dance and twirl across the window pane, drinking hot chocolate until their parents intervened. </p><p>Betty would talk about her dolls, and Archie liked telling her about Pokemon and Power Rangers. Both shows her mother had banned. When they were older, they secretly exchanged numbers so they could text. Until Fred and Alice realised, cutting contact immediately, confiscating their phones. The internet, however, existed; Archie wasn't hard to talk to these days. Unless it was face to face. He had explained that his father was the same, strictly telling his son that speaking to the Cooper girls was not allowed. It was like Romeo and Juliet, but Betty knew Archie had no interest in her in that way. That was okay. She didn't like him like that either. It was the friendship that they had that made her heart swell, though it still confused her why Archie was out of bounds; Alice had never given her a real reason, only muttering that he was bad news.</p><p>According to her mother, Betty's best friend and neighbour was completely off limits, but that didn't stop her talking to the redhead. It didn't stop their yearly celebration for his birthday, either. "Archie." she surprised herself with a choked out laugh, letting out a sharp breath of relief. She half wondered what had excited Archie to the point of hammering on her door at 7AM. "Dude, I nearly bludgeoned you with an umbrella!"</p><p>As usual, Archie was far too encompassed in his own world to be bothered about the fact that he'd nearly scared the life out of her. It truly baffled Betty that her neighbour could maintain the same smile and stay optimistic every single day. Even when he was upset, she had never seen him cry. The closest was a frown, which was still rare.</p><p>"Hey, Betty!" The boy shot her his usual grin, his squeaky voice dragging Betty's unamused lips into a smirk. His voice was yet to break. Sometimes, she teased him that he sounded like Mickey Mouse, which only made him do impressions, making her laugh harder. Somehow, the boy's prepubescent squeak didn't make him a target at school. If anything, the Bulldogs loved to have the small boy around when they hung out, despite the clear age difference, as well as the fact that every senior boy towered over him.</p><p>Archie's attention was on something moving in his arms. He kept leaning forward, his head of striking red curls catching the mellow morning sun, setting every strand alight. He looked up, a smile curving on his lips, warm mocha brown eyes melting into hers. </p><p>"I know it's early, but I found this little guy when I was heading to school. I wanted to show you her."</p><p>Inclining her head, Betty frowned. "Her?"</p><p>Nodding, Archie's smile grew wider. "I'm calling her Caramel."</p><p>Stepping forwards, Betty squinted, the irritation streaming inside her dispersed, bleeding into nothing. Instead of shouting at the boy, she squeaked in delight, her hand going to her mouth. In Archie's arms was a kitten, a little ginger fluff ball with huge blue eyes blinking up at her. Betty must have looked pretty scary because the kitten  burrowed its tiny little head into his arms, letting out a barely coherent mew.</p><p>"Archie," Polly hissed, half-cowering on the floor. She slowly got up and turned to the boy, her hands going to her hips. She was scowling, trying to look unnerving. "You know I'm deathly allergic to cats!" </p><p>The boy chuckled. "I know, but isn't she cute?"</p><p>Betty nodded, her lips breaking out into a smile. "She's the cutest thing I've ever seen!" Reaching out to pet the kitten, Betty instead gave the boy an almighty punch in the arm. She was partially getting him back for her own fourteenth, where instead of giving her birthday beats, he had shoved her face in strawberry trifle. Whereas the rest of her was giving Archie payback for scaring the hell out of her. "Birthday beats!"</p><p>"Wait, no!" With a choked out cry, Archie realised his time had come, and there was no way to stop the oncoming whirlwind of curls advancing on him, her fingers tightening into a fist that would bare no mercy. Betty's hair was still smelling of strawberry cream days after her own birthday, so she was determined to give the boy birthday beats to remember.</p><p>Archie arched back, cuddling the kitten to his chest. "Betty, no! Fourteen is too much!" When the blonde ignored him, hitting him, beginning her cluster of sharp  knuckled hits to his arm, he cowered, laughing, clumsily staggering back. "I'm holding Caramel!”</p><p>"And?" She countered, edging closer. </p><p>The boy's brown eyes widened. "Don't hit the kitty!" He teased.</p><p>"I'm not hitting Caramel," she stated, giggling. "I'm hitting you!"</p><p>Lips curving into a smirk, Betty punched harder, ignoring his high pitched laughs. She had him cornered, his back pressed against the washing machine, arms useless, since they were holding the kitten. Counting fourteen punches out loud, and one for good luck, Betty finally dropped her arm with a grin. She was panting, and from the look on her red-faced neighbour's face, none of the punches actually hurt. So, to please her, Archie mocked a look of pain, cradling Caramel for comfort. He wasn't doing a good job of hiding his sly smile. Betty knew the boy had muscles he was trying to hide; having Reggie Mantle as a friend had introduced him to the gym, and despite his stocky figure, he was getting stronger. Betty had no doubt puberty would do him well, if it actually hit him, that was.</p><p>"You've probably bruised my arm."</p><p>Betty jutted her chin. She ruffled Caramel's tiny head. "That's what you get for nearly giving me a heart attack earlier."</p><p>The boy looked defensive. "I knocked!"</p><p>"Yeah, like a crazy person!" She shot back. Betty leaned against the cabinet, stretching her legs out. "Why did you come in? You know our parents hate us talking."</p><p>"I second that," Polly said. Having miraculously gotten over her fear of the kitten, the girl had plonked herself down on a stool and began spooning eggs into her mouth like she hadn't eaten in days. Polly pointed her spoon at Archie, a smirk curving on her lips. "You should scatter before mom comes back and boots your ass out herself." </p><p>Archie rolled his eyes at the girl. "Good morning to you too, Polly."</p><p>The girl hummed, spooning up more eggs. "Happy birthday, Hobbit," she turned her attention to Betty. "You two should head to school if you're walking."</p><p>Betty frowned at her sister, folding her arms across her sweater. She grabbed her phone. It hit her, then, that she was still half-dressed. "And?" </p><p>Polly sighed, her attention still on the eggs. "And," she added, exaggerating emphasis, "I won't tell mom about Hobbit Boy, or his little ball of disease." Eyeing her younger sister, Polly smirked. "Are you planning on wearing PJ's for school, lil sis?"</p><p>Blushing, Betty shook her head. "No!" She hissed. She twisted back to Archie. "I'll be back in a sec, okay?" Catapulting into a run, Betty shot up the stairs, taking them two at a time. "You can have my eggs!" She yelled back down, before heading into her room. Getting ready was no sweat. Betty washed in record time, brushed her teeth, and changed into light blue jeans and ballet flats. Looking at herself in the mirror, Betty figured she'd go different today. Instead of her usual ponytail, she grabbed a light pink headband which pulled back her bangs, and placed it neatly on top of her head. </p><p>There. Betty smiled, giving herself a quick once-over. She looked almost exactly like Polly. The two of them were often mistaken for twins, and she revelled in having her sister's beauty. If not, toned down. Betty grabbed her bag from where it was dumped on her desk, and ran back downstairs,  joining Archie at the front door.</p><p>The kitten was gone and Archie had retrieved his own backpack, hoisting it on his shoulder. "I've put Caramel in my room. Hopefully dad won't be too mad," he sounded giddy as the two of them headed down the Cooper driveway. Betty ducked, dragging Archie with her, when Fred Andrews opened his door, letting their golden retriever Vegas in the garden. They managed to narrowly avoid getting caught, keeping behind post boxes and darting in front of dumpsters. When the coast was clear and they were finally running down the road, panting and grasping onto each other, Betty let the boy's arm go. </p><p>She exhaled the smell of freshly cut grass, the light summer breeze playing with strands of her hair. "Happy birthday.” Betty shot the boy a smile. "Did you get your present?"</p><p>Archie nodded. "I did,” he chuckled. "It was a bit squashed but the strawberry cream was amazing. Like, the best thing I've ever tasted." Betty noticed he was daintily avoiding the cracks in the road, his converse easily traversing fractures splitting the tarmac. Step on a crack, break your mom's back, she thought, quickly following in Archie's wake, hastily bouncing over each one. The two of them probably looked ridiculous but Betty felt safe with Archie. As long as he was by her side, nothing could happen to her. </p><p>"It was just a cupcake," she laughed, "mom wouldn't let me take it to your door, so I pushed it under the fence-"</p><p>"And Vegas nearly ate it,” Archie cut her off, smirking. Betty hit him again, shooting the boy an unimpressed look. "How was I supposed to know dogs could sniff out cake?"</p><p>Archie gave her a long look. He raked a hand through his hair. "You're kidding, right?" He scoffed, before slowing down. Betty matched his pace. "Speaking of cake, I don't suppose you want to come to my birthday party tonight?" Before she could speak, Archie let out a huff of breath. "I asked dad and he gave me special permission since it's my birthday."</p><p>Betty nearly stumbled. "Your dad's letting us hang out?" </p><p>He nodded. "Yeah! But, uh.." Looking uncomfortable, Archie cast his eyes to the ground. </p><p>She understood automatically. "My mom,” Betty huffed out. She glimpsed a stray pebble and kicked it as far as possible. "I hate her sometimes." To express her anger, Betty stopped avoiding the cracks in the road, intentionally jumping onto one with a groan. </p><p>"Step on a crack," she sang, proceeding to skip across each one, "break your mom's back."</p><p>Archie scoffed. "I don't even know my mom, and I'm still avoiding them."</p><p>Betty huffed. "I'm not,” she pouted. "God, sometimes I hate her!”</p><p>"No you don't,” the boy murmured. Though from the tone of his voice, and a whole childhood of Alice Cooper treating him like a disease, Betty had no doubt Archie had mutual feelings. They were probably buried deep, but there all the same. </p><p>"I'm sorry, Arch," Betty ducked her head a little, silently stewing in fury at her mother, but she refused to ruin Archie's birthday by making a scene. "You know I would if I could. I'd be there in a heartbeat if the evil dragon actually let me."</p><p>"Yeah," Archie said quietly. "Uh, well it's okay, I'm actually planning on inviting someone I think is cool. Veronica Gomez is going to help me impress them."</p><p>Betty stopped abruptly and twirled around to face the boy, a grin spreading across her lips. "Archie Andrews, are you trying to tell me you like someone?"</p><p>"No! It's not like that at all, I just think they're cool!" The boy's cheeks turned crimson, almost the same shade of his hair, and Betty rolled her eyes.</p><p>"Spill it, birthday boy," she said, jokingly drawing her index across her throat, "or I'll introduce your face to a Pops milkshake.” The girl had a devilish smile. "Strawberry cream, your favourite. I bet you can get a nice facial with all that whipped cream."</p><p>Archie curled his lip. "You wouldn't."</p><p>"You know I would," Betty sang, leaning into him. "Who's the lucky guy?"</p><p>When the boy gave her a sharp look, she shoved him playfully. "Oh, come on! Arch, we've known each other since we were in diapers, I know you like guys."</p><p>"It's not like that," Archie's voice was small. He clutched his bag strap tighter. Turning to the blonde, he gave a half-hearted shrug. "I just like this one guy."</p><p>Sure, she felt like giggling. Surely he hadn't forgotten about telling her he had a huge crush on Reggie Mantle at the start of the year. Instead of saying that, however, she nodded. "Are you going to tell me who it is or will more birthday beats suffice?"</p><p>The two of them quickened their pace once Riverdale High loomed closer. Archie stayed silent for a moment before he let out a sigh, a name slipping from his lips. </p><p>"Jughead,” Archie said, kicking stray pebbles. "He's kinda cool, I guess."</p><p>Betty stiffened but quickly hid her surprise. She couldn't, however, hide the fact that her heart had plummeted into her gut, those pesky butterflies once more taking flight in her chest. Jughead, she thought, her cheeks growing uncomfortably warm, like the sun itself was baring down on her, setting her on fire. She didn't know the boy's last name, but, God, she knew his first. Jughead was the one boy that made her heart swell when they passed each other on the halls of Riverdale High. He was always staring at the ground, the worn knitted beanie he wore every day, slipping over his eyes. But they made eye contact sometimes, and it was enough to make Betty's day a thousand times better. </p><p>It wasn't like the two of them were strangers; they had worked together on projects, but Betty had never been able to whip up the courage to ask him to homecoming. </p><p>The air was suddenly stifling, and Betty had to take several gulps. She ducked her head, hiding her blazing cheeks. "Pokemon Boy?" Her voice was steady, thank god. If Archie knew that she liked Jughead it would make things awkward between them, and Betty didn't want that. "Isn't he the kid who sits around playing on his DS?"</p><p>Archie turned to her, brown eyes popping open in surprise. "You know him?"</p><p>"Uh, yeah," she quickly replied, "we have a few classes together." She took a breath. "You like him?"</p><p>The boy nodded. "Yeah," he said, chuckling. "Veronica is going to help me impress him. She's also coming so I don't blow chunks and make a total fool out of myself."</p><p>Betty's heart was hurting, her chest felt like it was being suffocated. But if Archie was happy? If liking Jughead made him happy, then who was she to blurt out that they liked the same guy and ruin it? The words were on her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to say them. Instead, she swallowed them deep down. </p><p>"A Letterman jacket," she said, and when Archie turned to look at her with a raised brow, Betty nudged the boy playfully. "Ask Reggie to borrow his Letterman," she said. "Trust me, you'll look cute in it." </p><p>The redhead shot her a look. "What's wrong with my normal clothes?" He glanced down at his button down shirt and jeans. </p><p>Betty rolled her eyes. "You need colour, idiot," she giggled. "Throw on a Letterman, and I can guarantee you'll catch Jughead's attention."</p><p>"But..." Archie was playing with his hair again, twisting strands around his fingers. "It'll barely fit me. I've tried it on before, it practically hangs off me."</p><p>"Exactly." Betty grabbed the boy's arm, pulling them further down the road. She glimpsed students start to appear in groups, all heading in the same direction. "You suit anything, Arch. Plus, a Letterman jacket officialises you as a Riverdale Bulldog."</p><p>"Okay," Archie said, straightening. He puffed out his chest, smiling broadly. "What else?"</p><p>She pretended to think but Betty already knew what to say. After all, she had been at war with herself over the same thing since middle school. "Get to know his interests," she said, mocking the tone of a teacher. "He likes Pokemon, so tell him you like it too."</p><p>"But I do like Pokemon," he said, "X is my favourite."</p><p>Betty giggled. It was easier to hide her feelings when she was laughing. "Tell him that, then, you pineapple! I say just go for it, Archie. Approach him at lunch and ask him to come to your party." The school gates were approaching, the congregation of kids getting thicker. The sun sat like a perfectly unspoiled egg in a cornflower blue sky. </p><p>"Right,” Archie said, psyching himself up. He started bouncing on the heels of his converse and Betty couldn't resist a laugh, grabbing his arm and yanking it. </p><p>"Anything else?" </p><p>"Cake," she said automatically. She remembered back in middle school when Midge Klump had brought in cake for the whole class. Betty had sat and watched Jughead demolish his piece in seconds flat. He'd been smiling. It was the first time she had seen him smile, the bottom half of his face covered in frosting and cream. Her heart fluttered when the memory slid its way inside her head like warm ocean waves. Maybe that was when she'd got her first butterflies for the boy. "Chocolate chip brownie, to be specific."</p><p>"Chocolate chip brownie?" Archie looked sceptical. They reached the main gates, the two of them pushing their way through the crowd of frenzied freshman. Betty glimpsed Veronica Gomez in the distance, surrounded by Vixens. Though it was impossible to miss the girl's midnight cascade of hair and vibrant grin. "Veronica!" Archie shouted, waving at the girl. Turning back to Betty, the boy still looked sceptical about the cake. "Are you totally sure about choc chip?" He had to yell over the cacophony of loud chatter. </p><p>"Positive!" Betty yelled back, fighting against her voice breaking. She forced a smile at the boy. "Everyone likes chocolate chip, Arch!"</p><p>Archie started to back away from her, a smile still plastered to his lips. "Thanks for the help! I'll make sure to text you to tell you how it goes, okay?" The further he was getting, Betty was remembering how to breathe again. Liking Jughead was always something she kept encompassed in her heart, her own little secret that made her squeal into her pillow when even the thought of the boy graced her mind. It was different, however, when someone else liked him. Her neighbour, the boy Betty considered her best friend. </p><p>He liked Jughead, and there was really nothing she could do. Telling him would be...God, it would be selfish. Betty didn't know how long Archie had been crushing on the raven-head. What if Archie, like her, had those moments in his bedroom too; obsessing over the beanie wearing boy. The reality was that her best friend had the same swarm of butterflies, the same flushed cheeks and aching heart when even thinking about Jughead.</p><p>So, she had to let it go. Betty made a pact to herself, squeezing her bag strap tighter. She would only be happy for Archie. Screw her selfish, selfish feelings. </p><p>Betty nodded, swallowing hard. Ahead of them, Veronica Gomez had detached herself from her flock of Vixens and rushed forwards, squealing, blue and gold ribbons in her hair getting caught in the warm breeze grazing Betty's cheeks. "Archie! Happy birthday!"</p><p>Turning away from the two of them, Betty let herself be swallowed up by the crowd. Because if she stayed with Archie any longer, enduring his wide smile and glittering eyes full of hope that she had given him, her heart would break into a million pieces. </p><hr/><p>The school day was long and dragged out. When the bell rang; Betty was one of the first students to catapult from her chair, juggling her books in her arms, her backpack still unzipped and slipping off her shoulders. She was sweating, regretting her choice of outfit. Everyone else wore Summer wear; short dresses and sandals, while she had baked in what Cheryl Blossom might call "Fall Chic". When Betty finally pushed through the doors out into the crisp, cool air, she let out a breath of relief as she pulled her phone from her jeans pocket. She expected the habitual text from Archie but to her surprise, there were no new notifications. Lifting her head from her phone, Betty scanned the crowd of kids but the familiar mop of red hair which was her best friend and neighbour was nowhere to be seen. Swallowing, Betty stuck her phone back in her jeans pocket, joining the swarm of students pushing and shoving their way to awaiting school buses and the parking lot.</p><p>Not receiving a text from Archie was fairly normal. He'd probably forgotten to text her or his phone had died. Betty didn't need to know the details of his party invitation to Jughead either. She already knew them, or more specifically, had seen them. Betty had been lounging with Midge Klump and Ethel Muggs on the football field, the three of them watching the Vixens practising their cheer routine. She had turned towards the bleachers, her heart in her gut. Part of her wished for Jughead to be off sick so Archie wouldn't be able to ask him but sure enough, there they both were. Archie was looming over him, a broad smile on his face, Reggie's Letterman jacket hanging off his shoulder at an angle, bursts of blue and gold catching the sunlight bathing the redhead in an almost halo.</p><p>The two of them had been talking, Jughead had his head tipped curiously, wide green eyes on Archie, hands still grasping his DS; the boy's attention no longer on the game. Instead, it was on the redhead. Betty wasn't surprised; Archie was gorgeous, an explosion of vivid crimson freckles dancing across his cheeks and wide smiles. Jughead was another type of beauty she couldn't fully understand, one that made her chest ache. Though raven and red fit perfectly together. Betty watched them, waiting for Jughead to look uncomfortable like he usually did, doing his best to avoid eye contact with everyone. But he had a smile on his face that made her heart sing, a slight tomato blush shading olive cheeks when he chuckled at something Archie had told him.</p><p>At that point, Betty had turned back around, her stomach galloping. She was smiling. Smiling because Jughead clearly liked Archie back. Smiling because her neighbour was happy, and would probably have the birthday party he'd no doubt dreamed of.</p><p>And yet inside, Betty was crumbling apart, piece by piece. If she dove into her own mind, selfish thoughts would plague her. Why couldn't Jughead look at her like that? Why couldn't he smile at her? Laugh at her jokes? Shaking her head, Betty was mortified. No. She would be happy for Archie. Maybe if the two of them ended up dating, she could get to know Jughead better...as a friend. He was an enigma, after all. Mr. No Second Name. </p><p>To distract herself, Betty pulled out her phone once again as she slowly moved towards the school gates. Still no texts from Polly or her mother. </p><p>Now that she thought about it, Betty hadn't seen her sister since this morning. Usually Polly was on the playing field or with the Vixens, but Betty hadn't seen her all day.</p><p>It was okay, she told herself, despite a dire feeling beginning to blossom inside of her, twisting her gut into knots. Her mom was busy. It was her day off, after all. Polly was with Jason, probably cutting class. Betty wouldn't put it past her sister. When they had started dating, Alice Cooper made it clear there would be no teenage fraternising in her home. So of course being seventeen, the two of them booked hotels to get alone time. </p><p>That's where Polly was, Betty thought. A hotel with Jason, or even at the Blossom mansion.</p><p>Just to be sure, Betty hastily tapped Polly's name and pressed her phone to her ear, sucking in a breath. The dial tone started up before the automated voice buzzed in her ear, sending shivers rocketing down her spine. It was hard to ignore the dread building in her gut, a bad feeling that she just couldn't brush away. "We're sorry, but the person you are trying to call is unavailable right now. Please leave a message after the tone."</p><p>Thankfully, the crowd of kids was diminishing, and Betty headed towards the parking lot, cringing at the sound of her ballet flats on the tarmac. "Polly, where are you?" She hissed, walking faster. Her heart started hammering again, reminding Betty of earlier when she'd been paralysed with fear, all thanks to an excited Archie eager to show her a kitten. Betty lowered her voice, "Look, mom's not texted me all day, and it's weird for her to not even ask me if I ate, so once you get this, can you please call me back?"</p><p>She didn't mean to sound so pathetic, and yet that's all Betty felt. The sun was a relentless beast, beating down on her. She ended the voice message and tightened her fingers around her phone. Letting out a soft breath, Betty looked around her; the lot was mostly empty, dwindling students and staff still hanging around chatting. She was slowly making her way towards the senior car spaces, hoping she might spot Polly's car, when her phone rang, loud and obtrusive, the ringtone sending her stomach galloping.</p><p>Slowly, she looked down at the screen, shading her eyes from the blistering sun. </p><p>Mom. The screen flashed with Alice Cooper's familiar number, and Betty choked back a cry of relief. She tapped the accept button. "Mom? Thank god. You didn't text all day so I got a little worried. Is Polly okay? What happened this morning?" Her excited babbling stopped when a voice cut her off. Except it wasn't Alice. Instead, a male tone crackled through, and all the relief that built up inside her bled away. </p><p>"Betty?" The voice sounded frantic and it took her a few disorienting seconds to realize who it was, her blood running cold, icy fingers tip toeing down Betty's spine.</p><p>"Mr Andrews?" She squeaked, "Is..is my mom okay? Why do you have her phone?"</p><p>"No time to explain." Fred Andrews spoke clearly despite his tone. She could hear him moving around, fumbling, opening and closing drawers. "They've found us, Betty.” He choked out a hysterical laugh. "Now, I know you're probably confused right now but I need you to find my son, okay? Find Archie, Betty. It's imperative that you find Archie."</p><p>"What? Why? Is he okay?"</p><p>"I don't know. That's why I need you to find him," Fred grunted. "They already have your mother and sister. They'll be coming for him next."</p><p>Betty was suddenly overcome with a rush of nausea. The world, for a moment, seemed to come to a standstill and the smooth metal of her phone almost slid from her clammy grip. She wanted to end the call and throw her phone across the parking lot, but she couldn't move; glued to the spot. Around her, life seemed to go on as normal while her world crumbled before her very eyes. Her gaze was on a freshman boy talking on his phone, a scowl painted on his lips. "What?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper. Tightening her grip on the phone, Betty sucked in a breath. "I...I don't understand, Mr Andrews."</p><p>"You won't,” he replied sharply, the man's voice hissed through building static. "Just find Archie, okay? I'll be right there to pick you kids up, I'm just taking care of something." </p><p>"No," Betty whimpered. She forced her legs to carry her but they were weak and jelly-like, threatening to cave. It felt like she was swallowing glass, each attempt getting progressively harder. "No, I...I want to know where my mom and Polly are." More static. Fred sounded like he was running, gasping into the phone. </p><p>"Betty, just do it, okay?" He snapped. A grunt rang out and what sounded like flesh on flesh. A punch, Betty realised. Fred was in some kind of dispute. She heard every hit motivating the next strike. There was a another voice, what sounded like a manic laugh, followed by Fred's hiss of pain. "Elizabeth," he gasped out, choking out her full name. "Don't go home, do you understand me? </p><p>"Why?!" she squeaked. </p><p>A sharp, "Oof!" from Fred's attacker, before Archie's father let out a hiss, "Listen to me. I don't have much time. Just make sure my son is safe, okay?"</p><p>"Right." Betty whimpered. "Archie should be around here somewhere,” she managed to choke out, quickening her pace. The sun was merciless, still beating down on her. Swallowing questions she knew wouldn't be answered, at least not yet, she strengthened her strides. A panic attack was looming. Betty could feel it squeezing her chest and sucking all the breath from her lungs. Another hiss from the other end of the line. This time Fred cried out followed by another crash. Any lingering scepticism that Betty had seeped away like water down a plughole. "Mr...Mr Andrews?" She whispered, stumbling over her ballet flats. </p><p>"Betty," his voice was a growl now which turned her blood to ice. "Betty, go," he hissed down the phone. "Find Archie and run! Understand? Don't trust anyone. Not even your-" </p><p>When the line went silent, Betty clamped her teeth together to suppress a scream. </p><p>"Mr Andrews," she said again, her voice shaking. "Are you still there?" Betty suddenly felt small. So small. Vulnerable, like she was being watched. Twisting around, she gritted her teeth, making her way across steaming tarmac. Her brain was on fire. Betty lunged into a run, forcing her mind into fruition. Fred Andrews had told her to find his son, and run, before seemingly being attacked. He also said her mom and Polly had been taken. Bile crept up her throat. But by who, and why?</p><p>Riverdale High's campus was mostly empty. Betty had half a mind to find a teacher, some kind of authority figure. The police. But Fred had told her to find Archie. </p><p>So, that's what she was going to do. </p><p>Then... God, she was going to find her mom and Polly. </p><p>The sound of engines startled Betty and she turned to find the source; at the other end of the parking lot where the staff spaces were, an expensive looking car was parked at an angle. There was nothing special about the car except its sleek exterior; definitely a rich person's ride. It was bright red and looked a sight sitting under the blaring sun. Though it wasn't the car that held her attention. What did send her nerve endings on fire, igniting every cell inside of her alight, was the all too familiar boy teetering on the sidewalk. Jughead. Once again, his head was inclined rather adorably, strands of raven curls slipping from his knitted beanie. There was a faint smile on his face, inquisitive eyes on whoever was in the back of the car. Betty nearly turned away, dismissing him. It was his father, she thought. He was getting picked up from school.  </p><p>But then Betty saw what was hanging in the boy's arms; a blur of blue and gold, the unmistakable colours of the Bulldog Letterman jacket. </p><p>Slowly, she took a shaky step towards his direction to get a closer look. Jughead started forwards, taking slow steps, like he wasn't sure. Betty glimpsed a flash of obsidian hair, Vixen coloured ribbons flitting in the breeze. The girl had her head stuck out of the car, an eager grin spread across her lips. She was gesturing for the boy to get in. </p><p>Veronica Gomez. </p><p>Betty didn't need to stand there much longer to know the third person who had jumped in the back of the car. Fred's words echoed in the back of her mind; "They've found us." Archie's name was choked up in Betty's throat, and she knew it should have been the one to spout from her mouth in a startled cry. But it wasn't him. </p><p>"Jughead!" Her phone slipped from her grasp, hitting the concrete with a loud crack, but Betty didn't care. The world seemed to go in slow motion, and yet she wasn't fast enough. When Jughead disappeared behind a window of tinted glass, the door sliding shut on its own, the sleek car shot off down the road, forcing Betty to stumble to an abrupt halt. Kidnapped, Betty thought hysterically. Her mom and sister, and now her neighbour and two other kids - one of them happening to be her crush- had just been kidnapped in broad daylight.</p><p>For a moment, Betty stood stiff, panting, her gaze glued to the cloud of exhaust the car had left behind; her head spinning when she backtracked, frantic eyes searching for her phone. She didn't have much hope for it but despite having a totalled screen, Betty knew she would still be able to call the police. Taking slow steps, swallowing the urge to scream or to cry until her lungs were on fire, she scanned rough concrete. When she couldn't find it, Betty fell to her knees and started to crawl, grasping for the iPhone like the lifeline it was. </p><p>"Are you looking for this?"</p><p>Betty's head snapped up, her gaze finding a figure looming over her, half of their face hidden in shadow. Betty blinked and the silhouette bled into a real person, features coming into focus, sandy coloured hair spiked up a little, and green eyes that Betty had always seen as friendly. Now, however, they had an unfamiliar cruel glimmer, a smirk curled on his lips. Kevin Keller, the sheriff's son. They had never really talked, the two of them always in different classes. Sometimes when she was in Pops, Kevin would come over and talk about World Of Warcraft but she never really listened; instead tuning him out and watching Jughead in the booth in-front chomp his way through three burgers courtesy of Pop himself.</p><p>In Kevin's hand was her phone which had a pretty nasty crack splitting the screen, but it was still working; the home screen picture she had of her and Polly during vacation last year staring back at her. "Kevin," her voice cracked, and when Betty was sure she wasn't going to faint, she got up shakily, reaching for the phone. "What are you doing here?"</p><p>Kevin didn't hand over the phone. Instead, he pulled it back, holding it in the air like a toddler playing games. His gaze was on the road. "Pity,” he murmured with an exaggerated sigh. "Did you know them?" Betty swallowed. He knew. Kevin had seen the kidnapping, and the boy looked almost...triumphant. She grabbed for her phone but he snatched it back. </p><p>"Know who?" Betty hissed out. "Give me my phone!"</p><p>The boy raised a brow. "Of course you know them," he chuckled, leaning forward.  "Sweet, oblivious Jughead who still can't tell you have a raging crush on him, and Archie your neighbour, who is starry eyed for the little freak. A love triangle I'd hate to be in. Imagine that! You're in love with your best friend's little crush." Before Betty could speak, Kevin snapped his fingers. "Oh, and the cheerleader. Veronica Gomez,” he hummed, her name sounded like poison on his tongue. "I saw her mom get shot in the head this morning." Kevin grimaced. "Not a pretty sight. There was blood everywhere, Betts." He winked. "As for Fred Andrews...well, we actually need his brain."</p><p>Betty stared at the boy. She couldn't move, her legs were aching, head spinning. "Give me my phone," she whispered, fighting the urge to shuffle away from him. </p><p>"Nah." Kevin dropped the phone again and when Betty shrieked, he stamped down on the screen. If the phone wasn't broken before, it was now. "I've got a question for you." He crouched in front of her. "You and your sister," he said, "as well as Andrews, Gomez and the sad little orphan." He wiped away a stray tear trickling down Betty’s cheek. "What do you guys have in common?"</p><p>Betty couldn't help it. Fighting back the urge to question Kevin on the whereabouts of <br/>Fred Andrews and her family, as well as her classmates, she swallowed hard. "I don't know what you're talking about."</p><p>Kevin chuckled, and she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.</p><p>"Rats, Betty," he murmured. There were footsteps behind her; ones that she recognised, getting closer.  But she refused to turn around, refused to believe that they were part of this. Instead, she stared at Kevin, trying to find compassion or sympathy in his eyes. Except, Betty saw nothing. The boy shook his head, an amused smirk curving on his lips. </p><p>"You're just rats."</p><hr/><p>Jughead knew his mind was failing him, memories that he was desperately trying to cling onto, slipping into the dark. His name, for instance, kept getting caught in the whirlwind of his thoughts. It was alphabet soup on his tongue when he tried to say it out loud, almost like it was a foreign language. His own name, his identity and who he was; it was alien to him. Something that didn't feel right. But he held on. No matter how many shots Mr Jones gave him, sticking needles into the back of his head. He clawed through the sheet of fog enveloping his brain, and forced his name into fruition.</p><p>Jughead. He told himself, as well as the relentless pull, the hungry tumour eating everything. He was Jughead. Even if he didn't feel like himself, like the name fleeting around in his skull, that was his name. It was who he was, and Jughead wasn't letting it go without a fight. </p><p>He liked to consider himself as lucky. Ironically, the ones with actual lives and names attached to parents that loved them had failed to hold onto themselves. The redhead, the one who spoke into his mind...what was his name again? Like his own name, Jughead struggled to remember the names of the kids trapped with him. </p><p>The jock, Jughead thought. He was the one who had gotten him into this mess in the first place; Mr Jones knew his father and he had been an intended target, he and the raven haired girl were just...bonuses - two more minds he could play with. Jughead imagined vivid blue and gold clashing with startling crimson, bathed in almost heavenly light from the sun. The smile on his face. That stupid smile he couldn't resist saying yes to. The boy was his first real friend. The first person who had seen him as Jughead and not Forsythe the orphan. Archie. The name came slowly, like it was crawling back if only just for a second. Jughead held onto it with both hands. The redhead's name... it was Archie. </p><p>Archie Andrews. That was his name; the sullen looking redhead with brown eyes glowing the same light that took over his own, when Jughead was brave enough to look at his  reflection. Archie's most recent blossoming ability was what Mr Jones called "Jumping".</p><p>The boy could jump into bodies like a ghost, dancing across each one like it was that easy, binding himself to their mind and soul. But when they were alone at night at the end of an endless day of testing, he whispered into Jughead's mind, demanding answers to questions he couldn't answer. If Jughead really wanted to, he could tell Archie his name,  but Mr Jones was strict. If they said their names, or gave any inclination of their old identities, they were punished; and he and Archie weren't alone. There was the cheerleader too. Her bright smile was still alive in his memory but it didn't match the girl curled up in their glass cage. Her name? He didn’t know. The girl with the Siren scream,  raven straggled curls and hollow blue eyes; the girl whose pain he felt, as well as Archie's. Though pain, like his name, was almost a foreign concept to him now. </p><p>It meant nothing to Jughead these days, unless it was administered by Mr Jones. He didn't feel normal pain, because he couldn't. Whatever had been done to him, giving his skin the ability to patch itself back together, had also taken away anything remotely human he had left. He felt pain but only when it was forced onto him, when he couldn't fight it, strapped to Mr Jones's chair in his lab, a strip of duct tape over his mouth to stop him screaming. Once his ability had come through, shining through him in sharp spikes of cerulean light, Mr Jones was determined to find out just how bullet proof he really was.</p><p>None of that, however, could compare to what he was feeling at that moment. Even the cruel tests he was forced to go through barely scratched the surface, knowing his name was bleeding away; the kids, his fellow lab rats, becoming strangers the longer his mind was eaten away at. None of it could even touch what he was feeling right now.</p><p>"You know what to do, Boy. She is a failure." </p><p>Mr Jones's voice was a gruff grunt. The man stood behind him, ice cold breath grazing the back of Jughead's neck, sending all the hairs sticking up, shivers racking his body.</p><p>Jughead stood very still, staring down at the palms of his hands still writhing with electric blue light. He was shaking, the pain he should have felt, the pain in his heart for the girl, was non-existent. There were other physical sensations, like the hole in the back of his head where the bullet had penetrated his skull, but he didn't feel them. Jughead knew he had been shot at point blank range by Mr Jones. It was part of his tests, after all; Just how far could they push his ability? And yet despite hearing the shot, and feeling the bullet pierce his cranium, he still felt nothing. Because before he could feel something, the pain and trauma, his body began to stitch him back up like it had never happened. Jughead already had his life lain out for him. According to his captor, he was going to become something far better, the next step in human evolution.</p><p>He was a miracle, Mr Jones had gushed. A success. </p><p>The girl in front of him, however, splayed across the metal gurney, lying in a halo of golden curls. She wasn't like him, hadn't passed Mr Jones's tests on her body and mind, inhuman modifications attempting to turn her into a freak. Just like him. </p><p>She was a failure. </p><p>"Her body rejected the serum," Mr Jones announced from behind him. He let out a deep sigh, like it was an inconvenience, "As usual I continued on, thinking she would pull through. But no. Unfortunately, I could not convert her, and she suffered a brain haemorrhage, killing her immediately. Which is such a pity, considering her sister did so well."</p><p>The man's words weren't fully registering in Jughead's mind. The girl in front of him had a name, one that he held onto as much as he did Archie and the cheerleader. She was the fantasy he kept hidden in his mind, the girl who sent his heart volleying into his throat every time they made eye contact on the school hallway; sunshine hair and cornflower blue eyes, a smile that melted his heart. The overwhelming urge to talk to her properly, ask her to homecoming, had been a constant intrusive thought. But Jughead felt safe under the bleachers, curled up with his DS. Talking to her was coming away from that place of comfort and showing himself to the freshman class. He just couldn't do it. </p><p>Even for her. </p><p>The girl was Elizabeth Cooper. Mr Jones's fifth subject. She looked different today. Her skin was still ghostly white, splashes of dark cardinal staining her ears and neck. She still wore her pink sweater, but it was too much colour, especially on a dead girl. Elizabeth had been inside the lab for days, ever since Mr Jones had brought her in. According to the man himself, the girl and her sister had been separate projects. Jughead caught Archie frowning at her sometimes, what might have been a hint of recognition, quickly replaced with the same vacant, cavernous eyes that stared right through him.</p><p>The dead girl, was what Archie called her, muttering into his thoughts; <em>Do you know the dead girl? Did I know the dead girl? Who is the dead girl?</em></p><p>Archie did know her. Enough for the boy to gush childhood stories about the two of them in the initial days of their kidnapping. They were stories to get them to sleep. </p><p>Now, however, the girl was a stranger to the redhead. Whatever bond they shared shattering into pieces.</p><p>Archie's thoughts were like a hurricane baring down on his mind. The boy had no outlet, no lips to cry out with, so he did so in his mind, projecting his thoughts into Jughead's. It was like a one-sided call. One sided, because despite having the telepathic ability talk back, he couldn't. All he heard was the boy's soft moan through the static, asking his name, asking the cheerleader's name...the dead girl... </p><p>Dead, Jughead thought. His eyes burned, but no tears came. He longed to reach out and touch her, give her some kind of reassurance that everything was fine. Except- it wasn't. She was dead. Mr Jones had killed her, and all she was right then, was a shell. </p><p>"Boy, are you even listening to me?" Mr Jones strode towards the table, slamming his hands down on the surface, narrowly missing Elizabeth's head. </p><p>Jughead jumped, nodding, choking on a cry. He blinked himself back to reality, his gaze flicking up at the overhead light which was far too bright. The stale taste of vomit still tainted his tongue, and the stink of disinfectant in the air twisted his gut into knots. It was rare when he was allowed out of the glass cage. He let his hands drop to his sides, the blue glow still lighting up his palms dulling to flickering indigo.</p><p>"I...yes. Yes, Mr Jones."</p><p>Mr Jones had escorted him to a second room, one he hadn't been inside before. It was different to the usual testing rooms. There was no dentist chair like contraption. Instead, all that was inside was the gurney cradling Elizabeth Cooper's body.</p><p>Cringing at the feeling of ice cold marble slithering between his bare toes, Jughead straightened up and steeled himself. The paper-thin scrubs-like clothes he had been wearing were uncomfortable, chafing on his skin. </p><p>"Good." Mr Jones murmured. "Now, I'm going to call you Prototype Two. Do you understand me? Your name should have gone by now. If not now, very soon. You seem to be clinging on, though there are ways I can make the process faster." his eyes hardened, and Jughead had to clamp his mouth shut to suppress a scream. Archie and the cheerleader had let go so easily, allowing Mr Jones to dig into their heads and take what was theirs, what they held dear to them. He refused to be the same. When Jughead fought to avoid eye-contact, casting his eyes to the ground, the man grabbed his chin and forced Jughead to look at him. Jughead did, blinking back tears. Which was good, he thought dizzily.</p><p>Tears meant he could feel. Tears meant he was still human.</p><p>Barely. </p><p>"Do you understand me, Prototype Two?" </p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Mr Jones grunted. "Yes, what?"</p><p>"Yes, Mr Jones."</p><p>Cocking his head, the man hummed, tightening his grip on Jughead's chin. "Do you feel anything for her, Prototype Two?"</p><p>"No." He said far too quickly, maintaining a blank look, holding Mr Jones's gaze. "No, sir. I don't feel anything."</p><p>"Do you feel this?" Mr Jones murmured, protruding his fingernails into Jughead's flesh. Jughead did feel it, but there was no pain; only the phantom sensation.</p><p>"No." He said again, his voice wobbling.</p><p>The man hummed. "As you shouldn't, Prototype Two. Emotion will be the last to go in your final remodelling," he searched Jughead's eyes, scanning for just a glimmer of feeling, feelings that were very much still alive inside of him, turning his heart inside out. "Elizabeth Cooper is Alice's daughter. Thankfully, Alice Cooper is of course working for me. With some persuasion, she is blissfully unaware of my plans for her daughters."</p><p>Jughead didn't speak. If he did, he was scared he would throw up the nutrition vitamins he'd had forced down his throat earlier. He wanted to ask what exactly he had done to Betty Cooper; there was so much blood, staining the smooth, pale skin of her neck, slithers of crimson pooling endlessly like rivers, painting the girl scarlet.</p><p>"Polly Cooper shines," Mr Jones said, with a sparkle in his eyes, a glint of lunacy. "She was my first success. The reason why you have been blessed with an incredible gift."</p><p>Or a curse, Jughead felt like spitting in the man's face. This wasn't a gift. Being slowly drained of his memories and constantly being told he was going to be a soldier, was not a gift. Dying over and over again, only to come back seconds later like nothing had happened; it wasn't a gift. For Archie, his ability caused him to collapse regularly, whether that was standing or sitting. He'd just crumple to the ground, his eyes rolling back; letting out a sharp breath, like his soul was being sucked out. With no body to go into, the boy regained consciousness. But Jughead saw the fear in his eyes; the confusion and pain. The cheerleader. Every time she screamed, it hurt, and she cried. Sometimes her tears were tinged red, and she couldn't stop it. The Siren screech controlled her. </p><p>They weren't gifted, Jughead thought sourly. They were cursed. </p><p>Finally, Mr Jones released him, and he let out a sharp breath of relief. "I would like to test something out, though." His lips twisted into a smirk. "After all, you have a gift. It would be quite a waste for both you and me if you didn't at least try it out."</p><p>Before Jughead could try and speak, his gaze flitting to Betty Cooper, to her closed eyes, her ashen cheeks, Mr Jones continued, "You have the ability to heal yourself from every injury I have bestowed on you, Prototype Two," he said, "Now, resuscitate the girl."</p><p>"What?" He couldn't help it, the word flying from his mouth before he could bite it back. </p><p>"I fitted you with perfect hearing, I'm sure you know what I said," Mr Jones said sharply, "as for talking back, I hope you don't make a habit of it, Prototype Two."</p><p><em>Jughead</em>, he felt like snapping back. <em>His name was Jughead!</em></p><p>"Now." Mr Jones shoved him towards the table. "I will take you through it, Boy. First, gently lift her head."</p><p>I can't, were the words in his throat. Except he didn't have a choice. Swallowing hard, Jughead rounded the table and did as he was told, sliding his palms beneath her head. </p><p>"Well done, Prototype Two." Mr Jones nodded. "Now, it's simple. Just do what you do when you heal yourself, and channel it into Elizabeth."</p><p>But she's dead! He wanted to cry out. She is dead! There's no bringing her back! </p><p>"Yes, Mr Jones." Jughead all but whimpered. When he healed himself, it was more of an automatic reaction from his body. Trying to do it to someone else, no, trying to bring someone back from the dead, was very different. Mr Jones's steely gaze was stuck to him, so Jughead closed his eyes, willing his ability to life. When his hands ignited with iridescent light, Jughead held on, gritting his teeth through a cry ripping him apart.</p><p>"Wonderful!" Mr Jones praised. "Now, find her wounds, and ease yourself into them. Slip inside her, but gently, Prototype Two. You don't want to overwhelm her."</p><p>Jughead's heart was in his throat as his fingers danced across the back of her head, finding the ugly hole  penetrating her skull, where the needle had pierced. Nodding to the man, he pressed his fingers against the damage, fighting back the urge to run his fingers through her sunshine hair. The feeling was like an electric shock buzzing inside of him. Looking down, Jughead stared, as the wound very slowly began to knit itself back together, brand new flesh crawling across the old cardinal. He couldn't resist a gasp, lifting his head, his eyes flashing the same light bathing the girl's unmoving body. </p><p>"I..." Jughead's eyes flickered, and he watched the radiance prickle down her arms and legs, her torso, seeping deeper and deeper inside of her, mending what was broken, putting the shattered pieces of Elizabeth Cooper back together. </p><p>"Keep going." Mr Jones growled. "Do not let her go."</p><p>Jughead couldn't. Even if he wanted to- which he didn't- he felt everything. Every echo of her brain that slowly began to awaken, her heart igniting to life. He felt all of her, everything she was. But as the minutes went by, and Elizabeth's chest started to rise and fall once more, Jughead felt something warm drip from his nose, and land on her forehead.</p><p>The contrast of her skin and his blood, bright crimson on smooth porcelain, was startling to Jughead. Only for a second, however. Panic began to rise inside of him. </p><p>"You're almost there." Mr Jones's voice sounded faded, like it was underwater. </p><p>Nodding, Jughead focused on the girl. He closed his eyes, willing the process to go faster. But the more he forced it, the energy flowed deeper, filling the girl's mind, inviting him glimpses of memories that he shouldn't be able to see. It was like looking inside a foggy mirror; he saw Archie, a blur of red in the black and white picture which was her memories. The boy was speaking, and Jughead missed it so much- Archie's real voice, he dived deeper without thinking of the consequences that went with it. </p><p>A voice. Which was exactly what Jughead wanted. It was faded, but still there, the memory caught between both his and Elizabeth's mind; "Jughead's pretty cool, I guess."</p><p>What? Her inside voice, bringing the memory to life. Wait, no. No, there's no way Archie likes him. There's no way. </p><p>More voices. They were all her, but scattered fragments drifting in her broken mind. </p><p>He saw a classroom, and automatically recognised it; middle school. In fact, he knew that exact day. Midge Klump. Cake. The girl's memory was exactly the same, except from her point of view, was... him. Jughead saw himself sitting alone, chomping through the cake he'd been given. He figured Betty happened to glance at him, but no. Through her eyes, there was just him. While her voice echoed between both minds, creeping further inside of him.<em> "Maybe that's when I got my first butterflies for him...</em>" she sounded melancholic and whimsical. <em>"Archie deserves him. Besides, he said he liked Jughead first."</em></p><p>"Prototype Two!"</p><p>Mr Jones's voice sliced through their temporary connection, bringing Jughead to fruition.</p><p>All at once, Betty's memories flashed out of existence, and Jughead's eyes flew open. He was dizzy, nauseous, but...smiling. There was a faint smile on his lips that he couldn't explain, even if he tried. Before he could gush out some kind of apology, he quickly came to realise his hands were blazing blue; incredible light blinding him. </p><p>"What have you done?!" Mr Jones yelled. "Release her, quickly!"</p><p>Jughead wasn't sure what was happening for a second, before he looked down, and once again, fresh blood was seeping from the girl's nostrils. But not just that. Her eyes were wide open, but unseeing, glaring cerulean. His hands slipped from her head, and she flopped back down, the light in her eyes flickering out, before they snapped shut.</p><p>"You've overwhelmed her." Mr Jones stated. "Elizabeth's mind rejects the serum. I wanted you to bring her back gently, by healing her wounds. Not filling her with energy."</p><p>Jughead's gaze went to the girl, who was breathing. Blood still seeped from her nose, but it was stopping. "I didn't mean to." He managed to choke out. But that was a lie. He did mean to. Once inside of her, it was euphoria, feeling her body come back to life under his touch; delving inside Betty's memories was an accident, but part of him, the human part still clinging on, was almost...giddy. Betty Cooper, the girl who he had held close to his heart, was in fact regularly thinking about him. His head was spinning. </p><p>But in...a good way. </p><p>Suddenly, the idea of losing himself, losing his name, his identity and Archie, as well as... Betty. Betty, and the feelings she had for him. </p><p>It hurt. Real pain clenched his chest. </p><p>"I brought her back." Jughead choked out, taking a wary step from the table. </p><p>"Indeed you did," Mr Jones snapped. "But you also filled her with enough energy to combust her brain, which already rejected it." The man's eyes darkened. "Indigo energy is very powerful and Elizabeth has proved not once, but twice, that she is practically allergic to it."</p><p>"I don't understand-"</p><p>"Let me put this simply," Mr Jones said, "Elizabeth Cooper is a failure. It will only take one more bout of energy inside of her, before her body and mind combust, and Alice's daughter or not, you will not be bringing her back the next time."</p><p>"But-"</p><p>"But? I'm sorry, are you questioning me, Boy?" Mr Jones's head snapped up, lips curling. "I didn't create you to ask questions, Prototype Two. Now, do as I say, or I will happily tear you apart piece by piece, just to put you back together, being fully conscious, of course." A sickening smile spread across his lips, "You might not be able to feel pain any more, but I'm sure you would rather not like to see your own innards."</p><p>Swallowing hard, Jughead nodded. Even when he knew that Mr Jones would go through with his threat whether he stood down or not. "Yes, Mr Jones."</p><p>"Good." The man said. "Elizabeth will stay under my watch, while I maintain the facade of Alice Cooper's boyfriend," he smirked a little. "After Hal Cooper met a most unfortunate end, of course." He cleared his throat. "As for the girl, since she cannot be turned into a prototype like her sister, she will live blissfully unaware of the energy inside of her. Once settled, it will lay dormant. If she is exposed to it once again, it will either manifest inside her, or kill her. I can guarantee the latter, since she failed the initial conversion. And when that happens, Prototype Two, I will have no choice but to dispose of her." Mr Jones's gaze flicked to the girl. "I'm sure the Lodge's could pull some strings. Just like with Freddie's and Carolina's kids, it'll be like she never existed."</p><p>Jughead was nodding. He wasn't sure why, just nod, nod, nodding to everything Mr Jones was saying, despite his heart breaking into pieces. A heart that shouldn't do that, because he was barely human anymore. At least, that's what Mr Jones told him. Jughead's gaze was stuck to the blonde. He felt sick. The man had no problem killing her, and then plunging her existence into oblivion. "Of course, I don't want to do it," Mr Jones continued. "Elizabeth is Alice's daughter. I'm allowing her a second chance."</p><p>A second chance. Jughed almost laughed, pieces of him burning with envy. Betty Cooper was allowed to be human, allowed to live a normal life, narrowly escaping becoming a rat.</p><p>While he was being turned into an emotionless soldier.</p><p>"You looked into her mind, Boy," Mr Jones said. "What did you see? He mind must be wiped of everything, including my testing. Anyone she knew, related to this project. The memories of her sister have already been dealt with, thanks to our master manipulator."</p><p>Jughead couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. </p><p>"Answer me, Boy!"</p><p>He was replying before he could stop himself, thinking back to her memories; the blur of crimson. "Archie. I...I mean Prototype One."</p><p>Nodding, Mr Jones folded his arms. "Remove all traces of Prototype One from her mind."</p><p>Jughead's mind was a whirlwind. "I can't-"</p><p>"Yes you can. If you can get inside her memories, you can remove them."</p><p>No, Jughead almost said. But he didn't. With real tears stinging his eyes, he slid his hands under the blonde's head once more. "Me." he said, forcing his voice to be bland and emotionless. If he was losing Betty and Archie and his name, his life, then Jughead would let go. He would stop fighting the memory drain and let Mr Jones pick his brain apart. </p><p>"You?" The man spluttered out a laugh. It should have hurt, but he wouldn't let it. "Why on earth would YOU be in her mind?"</p><p>Ignoring the man, Jughead cradled the the girl's head once more. He pushed down anything he felt for the girl, all those feelings he had desperately clung onto. "How do I remove them?"</p><p>Mr Jones's expression lit up. "Do exactly the same as you did before, except envision pulling each memory apart. Do not take mercy, Prototype Two. Drain her."</p><p>"Yes, Mr Jones." He sensed his eyes light up once more.</p><p>Just like before, Jughead delved into her mind, gently this time, making sure only prickles of his ability touched her. Once again, her mind lit up, florescent with memories. Archie. Jughead saw the boy in snapshots growing up, from a five year old boy with a gap tooth, to ten, playing football over his fence through the perspective of a small hole drilled into mahogany wood. Then; a much older Archie, downing a whole milkshake in one, whipped cream fraying grinning lips. Following Mr Jones's instructions, Jughead focused on each memory, instead of revisiting it, tearing it from her mind, and crushing it into dust. It was surprisingly easy, like plucking apples from a barrel. </p><p>Betty jolted underneath him, letting out a soft moan, her body trembling under his touch, almost like she was pleading with him to stop. But he didn't stop. Jughead grabbed each memory, colourful balls of light, pulling them apart, until they were grey and lifeless, fragmented into nothing. "What are you doing?"</p><p>The voice startled him. Jughead was caught off guard, and looked down, only to find Betty Cooper's eyes open, sparks of indigo light circling her iris. the blonde was staring up at him, a knot of confusion between her brows. He could sense the cavern where Archie had been, leaving her wallowing in nothing, in darkness that felt wrong, like something, or someone, was supposed to be there. Betty blinked rapidly, confusion making way for fear.</p><p>"What's going on?" her voice was a soft squeak, and once again, Jughead was struggling to push down his humanity. "It's okay," he said softly. "You're okay, Betty."</p><p>"No." Betty said softly. "Where's..." her expression fell, and tears sparkled in her eyes. "Polly." she whimpered. "Polly...oh god, she.... she's dead."</p><p>"That's right, Elizabeth." Mr Jones's voice was surprisingly soft. "Your sister died in a horrific fire. Your father left. He couldn't deal with losing his daughter."</p><p>Betty nodded, choking on tears, and Jughead half wondered if his healing ability could mend a shattered heart. </p><p>"Get on with it, Prototype Two." Mr Jones spat. </p><p>"What?" Betty cocked her head, tears trailing down her cheeks. "Jughead?"</p><p>"Do it!" Mr Jones thundered, before Jughead could answer. Instead of talking to the girl, telling her to hold onto Archie as much as she could, and then him, Jughead sucked in a breath. "Just relax." he said, attempting to go back in, finding every trace of himself. </p><p>Except Betty shook her head. "No." she said, trying to sit up, but he pulled her back down. "No, there was someone..I...I can't-"</p><p>"Yes." Jughead finally spluttered, and her frenzied gaze flicked by to him. "I will go to homecoming with you, Betty Cooper."</p><p>Her blue eyes widened, his words relaxing her enough to send him back in, traversing the black and white, where Archie was, and false memories of a fire began to ignite. </p><p>"I'll pick you up at 7:30." He said softly, "You'll wear your favourite dress, and I'll wear a tux." tears were slipping down his cheeks now, and he couldn't stop them. But if it was his last crying as Jughead, before he became Prototype Two, then so be it. </p><p>"Really?" Betty's voice was a soft murmur, and she was smiling, blinking up at him. "You would do that?"</p><p>He nodded, spinning out the story of their night. "You look beautiful." he whispered. </p><p>She chuckled, her eyes flickering, while he tore each memory apart, every time she had seen him, thought about him, all those fantasies and thoughts that danced around, Jugehad pulled into the dark. Betty's eyes were rolling back, but he tightened his grip. "We dance..." he continued, "to some stupid pop song that I probably hate, and I hold you, and we talk, Betty. We talk about everything and nothing, and I start..."</p><p>Jughead choked up then. But Betty, even when the memories were dispersing, she frowned up at him. "You start falling in love with me."</p><p>He didn't speak, but nodded. </p><p>"That's enough." Mr Jones snapped. "Prototype Two, are you aware that-"</p><p>"Just let me have this." Jughead managed to say, and it was speaking freely, talking back. But he didn't care. Betty's eyes were closed now, and glancing up at Mr Jones, he knew his work was done. But he didn't let go. Jughead pushed himself back inside her mind, just to check, to make sure that he had left just a flicker of what was lost.</p><p>Not a memory, which was too dangerous; the smallest spark, which if coaxed, would hopefully reignite. </p><p>Finally, he let her go, and Betty's head fell away, lolling to the side. Her expression was peaceful, and Jughead found himself smiling once again, because now, he could finally let go. </p><p>Mr Jones was grabbing him before he could fight back, which he didn't. He was dragged back to the basement, shoved behind the glass, while his head spun itself off if its axis, The Pull finally taking hold. Jughead didn't remember falling to his knees with a sharp gasp. He didn't remember the redhead Joining him, wide brown eyes asking him what was wrong, his voice slipping into his mind. <em>What's wrong? Are you okay?</em></p><p>The boy didn't give up, slamming him with questions which were all the same; <em>What happened? Did you find out my name? Did Mr Jones tell you who we are?</em></p><p>He didn't answer, staring into space, his back against the wall. All at once, the redhead next to him became a stranger. The raven haired girl curled up on the other side of the glass cage, was nobody. There were tears slipping down his cheeks, but he didn't know why. Didn't know... why. Why? The boy's eyes shot open, a lot more vacant and confused, blue light once more igniting in his pupils, and dancing across the palms of his hands.</p><p>One thought dominated his mind, slowly growing, until it was crying out. </p><p>
  <em>What was his name again? </em>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please leave kudos, and tell me what you think! Feedback motivate me to write more, as well as giving me an idea what you guys would prefer/like. So feel free to comment! </p><p>Betty and Jughead, and the rats deserve better, and trust me, they'll get their chance to kick ass very soon ;) I hope you liked this chapter, I figured going back into suppressed memories would be a good idea, since the next chapter relies heavily on the relationship between both Betty and Jugead as well as Betty and the rats. There is also a time-jump coming! A two year one, so Betty will be 18/19! :D I am SO EXCITED for the next chapter! It's a sort of gateway into the next part of the story, which I hope will surprise you guys! &lt;3 thank you so much for reading, and I'll see you next time! (hopefully at the end of this week, or the weekend!) ooh also, about the other Riverdale kids I mentioned, you'll be happy to know that just the original 4, and Toni will have abilities. The rest of them will stay human! (But, not exactly themselves) ;)</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
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    <p>not a chapter, but thank you so much for nominating this fic for an award! I'm baffled lol but thankful! &lt;3</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please comment and leave kudos for more! :3 I'll be updating this every Tuesday. Thank you for reading xxx</p><p>quick note: in this story high school starts at 14. Because I'm not American, I messed up the ages djkjksfjks</p></blockquote></div></div>
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